So Far Away
by Beckers
Summary: When things look bleak for Isabelle can David Grief find it within himself to make everything right again? *This fic is now finished!*
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own this television show or its characters. I wish I did because if I had any say whatsoever it would have been shown in The United States long ago, thus garnering it and it's wonderful actors the accolades it/they so richly deserve. However since this is after the fact and it wasn't (nor are the repeats planned to be shown in the USA future) I will simply state that this fiction was written for entertainment purposes only. Thank you.  
  
*NOTE* I'm feeling my way with this fiction. I had a thought, a thought that became an idea and an idea that typed its way into my PC. The rating on this fiction is currently PG but if it goes astray I will warn you.   
  
Feedback is *always* appreciated.   
Best, Beckers  
  
  
  
  
TOTSS  
"So Far Away"  
By Beckers  
  
  
She pulled a large garment bag from underneath her bed and tossed it, defeated, onto the mattress.  
  
"You're leaving." His tone was low, so low she almost didn't realize he had entered the room right after her. "I never would have believed …" he began.  
  
"What?" Isabelle Reed turned suddenly, her long-heavy hair tossing itself over her right shoulder, "That I would just give up, David?" Her tone was bitter and accusing. "It's gone! ALL of it."  
  
"I know." he said lowly, lacking the eloquence to say what she needed to hear. He only wished he knew what to utter to relieve her anger and heartache. "You're going back to England?"  
  
"There or somewhere. Maybe Australia."  
  
"That's not too far away …"  
  
"Far enough to forget. I hope."  
  
The lawyers and their minions, had come for the last of the horses this morning. Isabelle had openly wept when her favorite, Dante, was pulled from her grasp. The horse had actually craned its long neck and looked back to her as if asking why she was giving him up to the rough hands of these unscrupulous strangers.  
  
"I thought after the fire a month ago that things couldn't get worse, David." Isabelle whispered, her bottom lip trembling but out of sight of Captain Grief. "But they did."  
  
The fire.   
  
Grief remembered it well. She was with him during a haul to Fatovu. When returning to Matavai Isabelle had commented that the air around them seemed heavy and somehow polluted. It wasn't until they docked and saw Lavinia and Reverend Trent waiting on shore that Isabelle realized something terrible had happened. Tragedy was written all over their faces.   
  
Isabelle's stable had burned to the ground, taking the life of her stable boy - Pui. Many of the horses had also been hurt and were ordered destroyed by the local board of health. Although Isabelle's living quarters had been spared, the bulk of her supplies, many vital to her on-going business, were damaged. Miss Reed was going to have to start from scratch if she wanted to continue her chosen business and livelihood.  
  
Many thought the young woman would fall to pieces when hearing the news but those who knew Isabelle Reed best understood that it was merely another challenge. She was down but not out. She had a little money put away and could *start* building again -- but she would need more. That was where the mainland bank came in. They were more than eager to lend the lovely stable owner cash, especially when she was able to show proof that Reed Enterprises had been very profitable. She had only been set up in Matavai for eighteen months but was already a business to be reckoned with, showing impressive revenue, until her luck turned bad.  
  
Two weeks after she and Grief's return, Isabelle made a request of he and Mauriri. "I know how much you two want sole ownership of The Rattler. I was never your choice for a partner, David …" she said and noted that he did not interrupt, " … so let's make a bargain. If you're willing to give me all the profit from the Pow Mir run, no matter how big or small it is, I'll write myself out of the partnership. The ship will be your own again."  
  
Even now Grief debated the conflicting emotions that overcame him. Yes, The Rattler was his and he wanted her back as his and *only* his but Grief had to admit that having Isabelle about, tending to their books and making all the right business decisions, hadn't been so bad. For the first time in a long while he and Mauriri were making a profit and actually keeping some of their savings, which wasn't really something he could brag about when they were left to their own brand of haphazard bookkeeping.  
  
Grief agreed and, at first, it seemed a wise decision. They picked up cargo from Pow Mir, a small but agriculturally wealthy island near Bora Bora, and it was a vast haul. Isabelle would have made a more than healthy yield once they delivered to Tuvalu.   
  
But then the storm hit.   
  
It was unexpected and viscous. The only thing Grief and Mauriri could do was drop their payload. If not, The Rattler would have been sunk, never to be recovered, in the deep water of the south seas. It was either their lives and the lives of the crew or the cargo.   
  
The Rattler pulled in that evening and he would never forget, as long as he lived, the joy and expectation on Isabelle's face, the radiance in her expression. She had received their cable about the successful pick up. It nearly killed David Grief to have to tell her what happened but he did and he watched her gray-green eyes avert in disappointment. He thought she might scream and curse or even punch both he and Mauriri, but Isabelle merely nodded and asked: "Are you okay?"  
  
When they both nodded she said no more. Isabelle merely looked like a woman who had to make a decision. She then turned on her booted heel and marched to her home, where the burned out stables used to reside.  
  
The following morning Grief was called upon by a solicitor who informed him that Isabelle had signed over complete ownership of The Rattler to him. Grief, standing on the beach, looked at the official document then to the solicitor once again. "Did she say anything when the papers were signed?" he wondered, deeply troubled despite his own good fortune.  
  
"No, not really." the dispassionate man had said. "She merely whispered 'A deal is a deal.'"  
  
Not long after, he and Mauriri looked on as the bankers came to call. Isabelle could offer them nothing substantial. However, dressed stylishly in a light blue skirt and vest, her hair brought up behind her head in the smartest of business fashion, a small time piece attached to her white blouse, Isabelle promised that if they would have just a little faith in her she would bring the business back to its former glory and pay them back in full.  
  
Grief almost smiled at the certainty in her voice. *He* would have been convinced and knowing Isabelle Reed like he did, she would have kept her word, at nearly any cost.   
  
However, not swayed by either her beauty and business skills, making the odd comment about "a woman in a man's profession" Mister Peakston, the mainland banker, had other ideas. He looked at her remaining horses, all healthy and well taken care of, then turned to Isabelle with an almost triumphant expression on his spectacled face.  
  
"Miss Reed," he said, "Weren't you once accused of murdering your French lover, Marcel Pinnet? Didn't it have something to do with stolen gold or some such?"  
  
Grief had never seen Isabelle look so lost for words or any woman's face turn so white.  
  
(to be continued) 


	2. Chapter 2

**So Far Away**   
(Rated PG 13)  
by  
Beckers  
  
  
  
  
He could see the pain and it touched his heart, "Tell me what I can do, Isabelle. I really want to know." Grief watched as she pulled a large valise from her closet and lay it on the bed next to her long garment bag.  
  
"David, if I knew I would tell you." She said as she opened her luggage, "Things are different now. You're not rescuing me from prison, poison, uncivilized tribes or even an unscrupulous business decision. No one can help me. I just have to take care of matters the best way I can."  
  
'And hope for the best.' Grief's subconscious added. Isabelle was a strong woman but emotionally it had taken a toll, as it would for anyone who found themselves in her situation.   
  
He scrutinized her, only an hour before, watching as Dante and the other horses were loaded onto a ship. The woman's expression was serene but a small tear had slid down her cheek. "Au revoir mi charmante" she had said then added, "I will follow." That was when Grief knew Isabelle was leaving Matavai. Impulsively, he had taken her by the elbow then, directing her away from the scene, told Isabelle about an idea he and Mauriri were forming. There was still a way she could start again but it would mean Isabelle would have to accept monetary aid from he, Clare and Lavinia …  
  
… and that was when Isabelle shook free from him, appearing appalled or insulted, and ran to what was left of her home. Like David Grief, the woman had her pride. Or, at least, she had developed it while living on Matavai. Isabelle would not accept handouts, not even from her friends, particularly a certain sea captain. He tried to tell her, following after Isabelle, it was only a loan but she knew better. None of her current companions had the type of cash that could get Isabelle out of her current situation. The *only* way they could help her was to go to the bank, as Isabelle had. Lavinia would be putting her tavern at risk, Clare the newspaper and David would, once more, being jeopardizing The Rattler. She couldn't do that to them. She *would not* do that to them.  
  
"Peakston gave me two days to vacate the premises. I have enough savings for a one way ship's passage. Tomorrow the freighter Dante is on leaves for Australia. Once there, I'll find a job and see where life takes me." Through her misery Isabelle tried to put on a facade of eager anticipation, "I'll also be able to keep tabs on Dante for awhile. I want him to go to a good home. Then, who knows. I might even make enough money cleaning stables to go to America. They call it the land of opportunity …."  
  
"Isabelle, you don't need to do that. Lavina has offered you a guestroom. She's more than happy to have you there -- and when you get your head on straight, when you really *know* what you want to do, I'll help you. I'll take you wherever you want to go on The Rattler. And, as far as Dante goes, maybe an arrangement can be made ..."  
  
"No, David." Isabelle was firm, "I can't keep depending on you and everyone here to help me out of my problems."  
  
"We're your friends."  
  
Tossing two folded pairs of jodhpurs in her bag, Isabelle nearly snorted a laugh. "Lavinia's a nice and extraordinary lady but she's hardly my friend. The only reason she's offering a room is because you asked her. That and because -- " Isabelle recalled the woman's concern for her several months go when Isabelle had badly cut her foot on coral, "-- she seems to have a thing for wounded puppies."  
  
"Lavinia offered the room on her own. I had nothing to do with it." Grief thought for a moment and knew how much Isabelle appreciated honesty, "At first you didn't make a very good impression on her, on a *lot* of people, when you arrived on Matavai but since you've been here we've all grown to care for and respect you. Even Mo." Grief smiled, catching a glint on humor in Isabelle's profile as she packed, "And he was one of your biggest detractors."  
  
Isabelle had to chuckle. She always knew Mauriri, in those early days, was not an admirer. However, he was gentleman enough to keep his opinions to himself. Still, as time crawled by, Isabelle knew she had gained his respect with her fighting skills, tenacity and one special incident that would forever be etched on both their minds. "It's funny how removing a simple piece of wood from a man's gut makes him value you."  
  
There was quiet for a moment as both pondered over that time. Isabelle stared down at the suitcase and Grief studied her expression.  
  
"Just so you know, you didn't fail me, David." she unexpectedly whispered.  
  
Grief blinked his confusion, "I don't understand."  
  
"I know, on the surface, you're here because we're friends and you want to help me. That's what I'd do if our circumstances were reversed. But I also know that I've always been a sort of "David Grief Success Story"." She continued quickly before he could interrupt, "You saved me from blind justice and from myself, you helped to guide me in the right direction and you've felt some pride that I stayed on track, only wavering occasionally." Isabelle grimaced mildly then turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his. "Just because my life fell apart here, you don't have to feel you've failed me, David. You deserve all the credit myself and the others have given to you. What's happened here doesn't change that."  
  
"Isabelle, whatever success you've made of your life here you did it on your own. I might have turned you in the right direction at one point but since then it's been all *you*." It started right from the moment Isabelle was acquitted of Marcel's murder and they turned the gold over to the French government. "As a matter of fact if it had been up to me …" He suddenly paused, recalling his thought of that time over a year ago. 'I would have been more than happy to seen you turn, walk away, never to return.' Back then it was true but later, as he watched her develop, as he noticed how self sufficient Isabelle Reed was and how she sincerely did make an effort to turn her life around, he felt warmed -- and a little guilty. Being honest was a good thing but, at a moment like this, Grief didn't need to reveal too much. Isabelle needed encouragement, not constant reminders of where it was she had come from. "Well, we all know how much you love the beauty of Tahiti, particularly Matavai, and how you want to live here for the rest of your life."  
  
"You've been talking to Clare, I see." Isabelle tossed a few intimate garments into her bag. She looked quickly over to the bedroom window, noting how dark it was becoming outside. Night fell quickly this time of year in Matavai.  
  
Grief, backing up slightly, leaned against a far wall, arms folded over his broad chest.   
  
He had thought much less of Isabelle Reed during the beginning of their association than he should. He knew she was beautiful and, initially, vulnerable. He desired her and always felt Miss Reed would be a temptation if she stayed. She would cause problems between he and Lavinia *and* throw a monkey wrench into all project he'd undertake. She would be an interference -- and she was. But she was also a friend, a source of great amusement when times were hard, and invaluable help. Also - in many ways - she was his savior.   
  
When others had deservedly turned their backs on him, calling Captain David Grief unreliable, Isabelle Reed had shown to pledge her support. She had saved him financially and emotionally. Without her help Grief would have lost The Rattler and if she hadn't killed a criminal, a woman he had been delusional over, he might to this very day have been lost. Without knowing it, Isabelle Reed had saved his soul -- and he counted on her. Sometimes even more than Mauriri.  
  
Yet, had he ever told her how much he appreciated what she did? No. A small portion of his mind pushed away gratitude for a less than gallant point of view. 'Certainly,' his pride told him, 'she's been a support. But, after all *I* have done for her it's only right that Isabelle should ….' and Grief felt himself becoming furious over his own self-importance. He was a product of the nineteenth century and as hard as he tried to disregard those lessons that had been taught to him by a smug father and subservient mother he found himself, at times, being an out and out hypocrite.  
  
Grief could almost hear his father's voice: "She's a woman and a convenience but don't let an occasional witty comment or an act of extraordinary capability confuse you. God created man before woman, David. That makes the female of a lower order. It is just the way it is, son. Their curse and our burden."  
  
How old had he been when Father dispensed this advice? Seventeen? Eighteen? Perhaps too young to realize David Grief senior was a fool …and it had costs one innocent girl her life.  
  
"I always wondered …" Isabelle started, pulling a skirt from its hanger. She then bowed her head slightly. "Never mind." She pitched the skirt into the valise.  
  
"No, ask me." Grief requested, sincerely wanting to hear what she had to say.  
  
"When you and Lavinia broke off your relationship, was it because of me?"  
  
Grief stared at Isabelle for a moment, astonished by the guilt in her expression.  
  
"You two were so good for each other. It was obvious you were in love. Then, not long after I came around and started to flirt, you stopped seeing one another." Shamefaced, Isabelle glanced once in his direction. She looked down again, folding a pair of socks. "If that was my fault, David, I'm sincerely sorry. I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't pleased when you were free but …"  
  
"It wasn't your fault." he stated, "Lavinia wanted more from me than I was willing to give at that time. She deserves better and one day she'll find him."  
  
"Better than you?" Isabelle openly laughed this time but there was a sullenness in the tone that was jarring, "And here I'm thinking you deserve far better than *me*. Guess I know where I rate in the scheme of things."  
  
"Isabelle, stop talking that way." he said, dropping his arms and moving forward. Grief's tone had grown from concerned to troubled. "You are a remarkable woman. You're smart, efficient, clever, beautiful and, if I do say so myself, you have a terrific right hook."  
  
With a roll of her eyes Isabelle handed him the garment bag, where she had draped three of her best dresses inside, and tying the front fasteners, mimed for David to hang it in the closet, out of the way. "But I'm so …"  
  
"You're remarkable. I've never seen a survivor like you." he returned to her.  
  
There was silence for a count of fifteen as Isabelle closed the valise. She dropped it to the floor next to her chest of drawers. "So, Captain Grief, tell me more good things about myself ..." she said and both laughed, a moment of humor in the midst of anguish. But just as quickly, it was gone and Isabelle was looking up into his eyes. She said nothing; just looked at David Grief as he gazed down at her.  
  
"So this is it then." he murmured, "You're leaving tomorrow and none of us will ever see you again."  
  
"I wouldn't say that." Isabelle whispered, aware of how close he was to her. She could practically feel the warmth radiating off his tanned skin. It took all of the self control she possessed not to reach out and touch him. "I might come back one day. It all depends on where fate takes me."  
  
"Okay … well … I better leave then. You're going to need some rest." Grief words did not match his motions, "I'll see you off tomorrow, help you carry your bags, and maybe we can talk …"  
  
"Thank you, David." Isabelle said before he could go any further, speaking words he might eventually regret.  
  
Again there was a pause. They both looked at one another.  
  
Something was in the air.  
  
Both felt it.  
  
*I don't want to go.*  
  
*I don't want you to go.*  
  
He reached forward, initially to touch her cheek, to express sorrow, but then something happened that neither would totally understand for days and even weeks to come.  
  
With an explosion of unabashed passion they came together and clung frantically. Grief crushed his mouth to hers as Isabelle clutched his shoulders, holding him to her possessively, as a greedy man might with a bag of free gold.  
  
"Oh God, not now …" Isabelle cried mournfully between heated kisses, pulling herself half heartedly away just to feel his searing lips on her throat. "David … oh please don't …" But she couldn't stop this anymore than he. She needed him so badly and had wanted him for so long …  
  
"Isabelle … Isabelle …" Grief whispered over and over again, kissing the tears from her cheeks, running his fingers through her beautiful hair, finally revealing - through action - the pent up emotions he'd been feeling for so long.  
  
They fell onto the bed together, whispering sweet words, pulling at each other's clothing, carressing each other's flesh. They were a man and a woman who knew exactly what it was they wanted. There was no hesitation and they marveled at the gifts that were so beautifully displayed. The holding and touching was like a tonic. They held off as long as possible, experiencing one another to the fullest, until finally a culmination of desire wracked their bodies and they were lost …  
  
They made love all evening, a hand on someone's bare shoulder or a whisper in his or her ear was enough to ignite that flame of desire …again and again. Until finally, totally satiated, all they could do was sleep, exhausted, embracing one another, making silent promises that would be broken ….  
  
***  
  
When David Grief awoke the following morning Isabelle Reed was gone.  
  
***  
  
((TO BE CONTINUED)) 


	3. Chapter 3

"So Far Away"  
Written by  
Beckers  
  
  
  
**Chapter Three**  
  
  
David Grief could never recall a time when he had slept so soundly. If it hadn't been for an irritating shaft of light which had rudely directed itself over his left eye and cheek he might not have awakened until noon.   
  
Yet, he was conscious now and as his eyelashes flickered he noted the sound of daily activity outside, and he became aware of where he was -- and who he had been with. Partly dazed, Grief grinned, recalling the night and what it had disclosed. "Oh, lady." he murmured, sing-song, but it was with a relaxed and grateful smile. Had he but known ... And now he turned slowly over, wanting to feel her warmth again but also knowing they needed to talk.   
  
The space next to Grief was empty, void of all human life, and he lifted his head off the pillow, looking about the area, listening for her - perhaps - in another room. "Isabelle?" he asked but there was no reply. Untangling himself from the sheets and sitting up, Grief looked over to her open closet. He stiffened. The long garment bag was missing. He pulled himself widthwise over the mattress to look at the floor near Isabelle's chest of drawers. The valise was gone …  
  
"Damn!" Grief cursed and, nearly panicking, propelled himself out of the bed. He dashed to the bedroom door, looking down the hall, searching for her. "Isabelle!" -- 'She would not just leave …' His heart argued with what seemed reasonable. Grief glanced momentarily downward and saw that his own clothes, those which had been thrown carelessly onto the partially carpeted floor last evening, were neatly folded and lay in a tidy heap on a stool.  
  
Quickly, he dressed and - knowing where she must be - Grief ran for the harbor.  
  
***  
  
"I'm sorry, son, but that freighter left over two hours ago." The elderly native clerk announced, gently scratching the back of his silver-haired head. "Although, it did have a small list of passengers. They were all going as far as Australia. A drop off."  
  
"That's the one." Grief said, finally feeling as if he might be getting somewhere. He had been trying to get information from the docking clerk for over ten minutes but he was a crusty old man that appeared to trust little or no one. "Was there a woman on board?" Grief asked, "She's in her late twenties, about this tall --" He lifted a hand to indicate measurement, "-- and has dark hair."  
  
"Pretty?" the clerk asked.  
  
"Yes, and she's English."  
  
Leery, the waterfront clerk began to flip through his ledger when all at once he looked up and, eyeing the questioner intently asked, "Are you David Grief?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The clerk stared at him a bit longer, as if trying to get the captain's description down, then he pulled something from underneath the counter. "This is for you." He pushed a sealed envelope in Grief's direction, "Your right. She was a pretty young lady, from what these old eyes recall, and she was sad. Tormented, I'd say." His eyes narrowed with accusation, "Are you her husband? Did you hurt her?" he asked in a manner that only the very young and elderly could get away with.  
  
"No, nothing like that." Grief assured, "We're just …" He stopped himself from almost saying it. 'We're just friends'. How utterly unfitting that phrase seemed. "Thank you." Grief took the letter and walked away, ripping the envelope open as he made his exit.  
  
****  
  
He was drinking too much and knew it. It was just past three o'clock in the afternoon. He sat alone at his favorite table at Lavinia's, pouring yet more whiskey into his glass, and staring into space. The letter lay atop the tabletop, opened and slightly splattered with liquor.  
  
Clare watched him from behind the counter where she was helping the tavern's keeper. She then glanced at Lavinia, who had also been eyeing Grief, as she accepted money from a few slightly inebriated patrons.  
  
Lavinia looked at the concerned Clare and nodded. No need to worry. She had taken care of matters.  
  
With shaking hands and bleary vision, Grief focused once again - for he had read it ten times already - on the letter and read it silently to himself:  
  
~~~~  
  
My Dearest David,  
  
This is by far the most difficult letter I have ever written in my life. But before you read further you must know this: Last night was without a doubt the loveliest evening of my entire existence. It was as if my soul was dancing beneath starlight and you were there to lead, to embrace me with your affections, to show me light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Never before had I felt such passion and tenderness. Never have a man's kisses felt so perfect and pure. You brought out something untouched in me, David Grief, something nameless and untainted, an emotion I thought long dead but now, I discover, was merely dormant. My gratitude knows no bounds.  
  
But now - today - we must face some truths. As incredible as that experience was, my dearest Captain, it was only what it was. We did what we did because I needed you and you … you were lonely and a little sad. I know you do care for me, David. I have no doubt about that. But you also understand the bigger picture far better than I ever did. We are both too selfish an animal to ever be together, occupying the same space at the same time. I realize this now and I know, in your heart, you are agreeing with me. We *are* too much alike and anything more than what we shared last night … it would only serve to make us miserable. It could never work. Never.  
  
Besides, your true devotion lay with another woman. We both know who she is. I am not going to mislead myself into believing you ever fell out of love with her. How can I when I've seen you watching her, yearning for her, thinking you made an enormous mistake when you and she parted. Go to her, David. Go to the woman you love and tell her you made a mistake. You need her desperately and if the passion you and she share is anything like what we experienced last night … you will be happy together for a long, long time.   
  
Thank you, David Grief. Thank you for the courtesy and attention you've shown. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for sharing, even if it was only one flawless night, a part of your soul that will never belong to another woman, as it did with me. Mark it on your calendar, David. I will.  
  
You changed my life and will be in my thoughts and heart forever.  
  
With Deep Affection,  
Isabelle  
  
~~~~~  
  
****  
  
When Mauriri entered the bar Grief had finished with his first bottle and he had motioned over to Clare to get him another. Sizing up the situation, the Polynesian took the bottle and an extra glass from the countertop. He made eye contact with both Clare and Lavinia and silently ambled over to Grief's table. He sat in a chair opposite his friend and poured them both a finger full. "Beautiful day, David. You should be out in it. Maybe checking out The Rattler before our next big haul."  
  
Glancing at his friend then at the whiskey glass, Grief nodded. "You're right, Mo. You're always right." he said but it sounded less than a compliment. "It's time to go on, yet again, like nothing has happened. Where would men be without that ability? You ever wonder? Oh, I know. They'd be drinking their sorrow's away, at a south seas bar, knowing one day they'll get it right."  
  
"Get what right, David?"  
  
"Women."  
  
Mauriri nodded and suppressed a sigh, "What happened?"  
  
"You don't know?" Grief leaned back in his chair and looked up at the thatched roof above him, "She left."  
  
"Isabelle?"  
  
"Yes, Isabelle." Grief picked up his glass and downed the whiskey with one swallow.  
  
"Did you tell her Lavinia, Clare and Colin and I were willing to help rebuild …"  
  
"Yes, I told her and she made it very clear she would not be looked upon as a charity case. She took a ship to Australia this morning."  
  
"The freighter?" At Grief's nod Mauriri took the bottle and poured him another finger full. "Makes sense, I guess. She'd want to be with Dante one last time before she loses him for good. But I'm still surprised. Isabelle's not usually so impulsive. Running a business gave her patience. Something must have happened. What do you think could have made her want to leave so soon?"  
  
Grief stared at his drink and said nothing.  
  
Mauriri spotted the open letter laying on the table and picked it up.  
  
"No …" Grief started, reaching forward but suddenly stopped when Mauriri looked at him, inquiring. Again, Grief sat back in his chair and watch his friend as he read the intimate correspondence. He was waiting for Mauriri's expression to change at some point but the Polynesian was passive. Even when he finished reading and refolded the letter, when he slipped it back into its envelope, his expression did not betray him. He merely picked up his own drink, tossed it back, then looked out of the bar's open front, at the beach beyond. He was silent for too long. "Say something, Mauriri." Grief demanded.  
  
Unhurried, Mauriri looked back at David then to the table top, drumming his fingers gently on it's surface. Then, with a sigh, he asked: "Is she right? Do you still love Lavinia?"  
  
Grief glanced at the beautiful bar keeper as she smiled and served her patrons. "I'll always care for Lavinia." he said, "But do I think we have a future together? No. That's past. We've both moved on."  
  
"And what about Isabelle?"  
  
"You said yourself that she is nothing but trouble. You were right."  
  
"If it were a hundred years ago I'd agree with you, David."  
  
The men met each other's eyes.  
  
"What do you want me to say, Mo?" Grief put his glass down with a loud 'thunk' and appeared suddenly defeated, "We had our night and she left. Does it matter how I feel now?"  
  
"Yes, it does!" Mauriri was stunned by the utter gullibility of the man. How could someone who claimed to be as worldly as Captain Grief be so blinded when it came down to the female of the species. "Do you love her?" he asked again, this time his tone demanding a truthful answer, not a glib comment.  
  
"Yes." Grief said and was astounded by how comfortable the admission was as it passed his lips.  
  
"Do you want her here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then go find her and bring her back!"  
  
"She doesn't want me to …"  
  
"So what! When did that ever stop you?"  
  
"What does it matter if I love her but she doesn't love me? I can't force her to return."  
  
Mauriri tossed his hands up in frustration, "Did we read the same letter?" he asked, "The woman is crazy about you, David. Her pride and fear isn't going to let her admit it, especially if she thinks your heart belongs to another woman, but one sure way of letting her know where she stands is to *go get her* and tell her how you feel. From there you two can make some decisions."  
  
Nervous, Grief sat up straighter in his chair. "What if we go all the way to Australia and I discover …You could be wrong, Mo!"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Mauriri explained: "You may have far more experience than I do with women, David, but I think I can safely say that I know them better. I have a wife, children and the good sense to know love when I see it and read it." He tapped the envelope for emphasis. "Go to her, David. Bring her back. Tell her you love her."  
  
"When did you become so smart?" Grief asked, with an amazed grin.  
  
"About the same time I realized my love life was more satisfying than your own."  
  
"Will you come with me?"  
  
"I'm not sure I should."  
  
"You should. I'm going to need all the morale support I can get."  
  
"You know, I think you're right." Mauriri glanced at both Clare then Lavinia - a thought entering into his head - and he smiled. "We'll take off first thing tomorrow morning. It'll give you enough time to sober up and I have some personal and business dealings to get straight before we leave."  
  
"Business?" Grief questioned.  
  
"Never mind." Mauriri stood. "Go rest up on The Rattler, David. Then get her prepared for the trip. Remember, dawn."  
  
'Australia.' Grief thought, watching his friend's back as he left. What would they find there? Friend, foe or lover?  
  
  
((to be continued)) 


	4. Chapter 4

So Far Away  
By  
Beckers  
  
**Chapter 4**  
  
  
  
Isabelle Reed stood on the great ship, petite toes solid on the wooden planks underneath her dark boots. She leaned over the railing, staring thoughtfully into the murky water churning before the freighter, her mind deep in thought. She was leaving the only true home she ever had. She loved Matavai; its beauty and the freedom it afforded her. Isabelle also cherished her business and the challenges it presented. She wasn't certain what she would miss more, her horses or the people she had grown to care for. Most especially ... no. She would not dwell on him right now. Isabelle stood straight and closed her eyes, attempting to think of something less distracting. It wasn't working.  
  
It had already taken more out of Miss Reed than she could ever imagine, watching him lay there this morning, so strikingly handsome and at peace, never knowing that she was silently dressing, pulling her bags from the room, abandoning him to his dreams. God, when she thought about the tenderness and delights they shared last night, of their profound joining, it was enough to make Isabelle shudder. It was easier leaving as she was, without a confrontation, because no matter what David Grief said or what he intended there was no way she could avoid an inevitable humiliation. Was she being a coward? Perhaps but how could she remain in a place that had witness her fail so miserably? And how could she face him again in the morning, after all that passed between them during the night, and tell David he had not changed her mind?   
  
She loved Matavai and never dreamed of leaving yet she had to. It hated her. It disgraced her … and she had succumbed to its false promise of prosperity.  
  
And David … It would be better for him to detest her, consider the woman a cold hearted witch, then for him to ever believe anything good could come from their affair. Isabelle, despite the gloom and depression permeating her soul, smiled at a memory. Before she left, she had kissed him on the cheek, careful not to wake the attractive Captain, then - just before the ship sailed - Isabelle had left that letter with the docking clerk. She could picture poor David reading it, his eyes igniting in both anger and betrayal, and Isabelle imagined him walking immediately to Lavinia's to get drunk. Over her? Probably not but one could fantasize.  
  
"God, I've grown so decent." Isabelle whispered to the sea. There was a time in her life when she would have allowed a man, actually *anyone*, to help her out with as much money as they were willing to provide. As a matter of fact, with little dignity, she would laugh and kick her own pride in the face if it meant she could live the good life and walk, free from controversy, out into the sunshine. Isabelle had wanted nothing more than the power wealth presented, to wear pretty clothes and, perhaps, show off a diamond or two. Her greed knew no bounds.   
  
However, that all changed when Marcel was murdered and she was shipped to Matavai. *He* came into her life. David Grief distorted everything, beating down her defenses and showing a former female gutter rat exactly what it was to have honor … and care ... and self restraint. He had practically forced respectability onto Isabelle and, for that, she was initially cynical then eventually obliged.   
  
She closed her eyes once again in reflection. After their night together, when he had whispered those loving endearments into her ear, Isabelle knew what she had to do … and where the first place was Grief would look for her and … 'Why did I do it? Why did I leave him that damn letter?' She knew why. Despite everything, Isabelle could not leave Matavai with David thinking she did not care, believing that he and the time they spent together had meant nothing. That self-centered woman he met eighteen months ago wouldn't have cared but the new woman, the one he helped grow a heart, did not want to think about how he might suffer. Still, it probably would have been better if she *hadn't* written the letter, Isabelle reflected, but at least she told him what everyone already knew.   
  
David Grief still loved Lavinia. When he made love to her last night, murmuring those words of worship and passion, he was actually seeing Lavinia's face and recalling the life they once shared. How else could he have made someone so undeserving feel so splendid? Only a man in love could do the things he did … and after all this time Captain Grief just could *not* be in love with Isabelle Reed. How could he, especially now, when she had so little to offer?   
  
'I'm not that foolish.' Isabelle brooded. When it came down to a typical male perception, even from a man like David Grief, a woman like her was good for only one thing: An incredibly intense but gratifyingly brief fling. Isabelle herself had had enough of them to know when it was time to take her leave.   
  
Yet, a man had never reached down so generously and expressively, so deeply inside of her, and touched emotions like David Grief had last night. What she had always suspected was true. He was an incredible lover and someone like Lavinia warranted such a man …"Captain Grief, you deserve happiness." Isabelle whispered, continuing to stare into the water. "And we never should have …" As wonderful as it was it never should have happened. He was supposed to be with Lavinia. They could live a very happy life together, bringing up beautiful children and planning an idyllic future … and if their passion was even a fraction of what she and David shared in a single night, they would both die immeasurably content. "Please be happy, David." Isabelle whispered again, miserable.   
  
With a regretful sigh, Miss Reed backed away from the railing and attempted to shake away disheartening thoughts. With a deep, cleansing breath she tugged and straightened her white blouse. It was near feeding time for the horses, she knew. To keep her mind off of Grief and a more than uncertain future Isabelle decided to go below and help.   
  
Besides, visiting Dante always lifted her spirits.   
  
****  
  
They were making excellent time.   
  
Behind the wheel of The Rattler, David Grief looked out to the sea, gauging the weather and wind, then he glanced over his shoulder to where the sun was setting. They would sail into the Australian harbor by late tomorrow afternoon.   
  
Below, Mauriri was cooking dinner. Grief could smell the aroma of pepper salmon and he was glad his partner had decided to go with him. It was at times like this that Grief realized just how lost he was when his best friend wasn't around to give him direction -- and cook. The dinners he and Isabelle had prepared in the belly of the ship were never as savory …  
  
The smile left his lips the moment he thought about her. Once they arrived at their destination how was he was going to approach her? None of the women of his past had ever been this much trouble, Grief thought, then amended the muse when he recalled a certain dark haired monster that nearly destroyed him. But that had been an unreal time in his life, when all reason left him. However, here and now he was sane … and mostly sober.  
  
With the sensation of fresh air and a spray of sea salt through his hair, buffeting against his red shirt, and dampening his skin, Captain David Grief once again rehearsed what he intended to say to Isabelle when they had their reunion.  
  
***  
  
"Stay still a you stupid little broom-tell! I'm boss here and if you don't watch your step, my girl, when we get home I'm telling your master to send you off for glue! "   
  
Walking slowly down the steps into the cargo hold, lifting her dark blue skirt so as not to fall, Isabelle heard a loud whinny and the stomping of aggravated hooves. Her smooth brow gently furrowed when she heard the snap of a riding crop. The horse protested once again and Isabelle quickly marched to where she heard cursing and the obvious fear of an animal being unnecessarily abused.  
  
She stood and watched as a man, possibly a worker from a privately owned stable but commissioned by the freight ship, roughly grasping the bridle of a light colored mare. He was jerking her head about, as he none too gently washed her neck with a tepid bucket of water and a wire brush that had seen its best days three years ago. He was rough, too rough, and a mare was objecting to his treatment of her.   
  
"Stop that!"   
  
The surprised worker stood to his impressive full height and turned his well muscled shoulders about to look at the comely young woman as she walked quickly and impetuously forward. "What's that you say?" he asked, a tired and slightly amused sound in his accented voice.  
  
"This is no way to treat a horse." She objected, vehemently snapping the reins from the man's outstretched hands, "How would you like it if somebody tried to give you a bath in such a manner?"   
  
"If it be someone as pretty as you," he leered in a less than gentlemanly manner, revealing a surprisingly nice set of white teeth. "I might like it quite a bit, missy."   
  
Isabelle, knowing his type, rolled her eyes. She was not impressed with the cad's Irish accent or his ruggedly handsome features. Vulgar and obnoxious, Isabelle decided, and a peasant. Gently, she rubbed the horse's nose. The mare reach forward, obviously appreciating the woman's soft touch, and gently nuzzled Isabelle's cheek. "See, she's like any female. Be gentle with her and she may not stomp you to death."  
  
Indifferent, he held out a hand. "Now, hows about you handing those reigns back to me. You let me do my job and you go about your business, M'queen."   
  
"What's your name?" she asked, holding back until he answered.  
  
"John O'Finney. And yours?" he asked, abruptly and with an odd confidence.  
  
Isabelle slapped the reins in his hands but did not answer his question. Instead, she asked another, "Who owns these horses?"   
  
"Most are owned by the bank." he said, turning from her and going back to work, "They will all be up for auction in a couple days. They'll be staying at the Wilke Ranch until then. As a matter of fact, some are already the property of Lord Henry Wilke."   
  
"Lord Wilke from England?" Isabelle asked, curious.  
  
"The same. He has a Winter home in Australia." O'Finney paused, looking at Isabelle, forming a conclusion, "Why, you interested in buying?"  
  
"No, not exactly. But there are a couple geldings here that mean a lot to me. I want to see that they get a good home."  
  
"Geldings you say?" He looked Isabelle up and down, pleased with his own wit. "I would never have pictured you as a woman with an interest in geldings." he said, rather lewdly.  
  
"Idiot." Isabelle murmured quietly under her breath. Then, with an haughty turn said, "You just be good to these animals, Mr. O'Finney, or I'll report you to whoever is your master." Isabelle about faced and walked to where she knew Dante had been stalled. She could feel the man's eyes on her back.   
  
She couldn't help being repulsed … and flattered.  
  
  
***  
  
((I know this chapter is a bit short but I needed it as a set up for what is to follow. I'll try to get Chapter 5 out ASAP. Thank you everyone for your kind comments and hanging in here with me - Stay tuned *WEG* - Beckers)) 


	5. Chapter 5

TOTSS  
"So Far Away"  
by Beckers  
  
**Chapter 5**  
  
  
  
"Come here, my beauty." Isabelle approached the stall, her hand held out to the mount, attempting to touch him and show that she was still there to take care of he and his friends, even if only for a few more short days. She noted that Dante and his other equine companions seemed nervous, upset even. "Are you all angry with me?" she asked, forlorn, feeling the animal calm immediately under her soothing hands, "I wouldn't blame you." she whispered, "Dante, I should have been better prepared. But I just never dreamed …"  
  
"Dante?" Is that his name?" came the curious bleat of a very young voice.  
  
Startled, Isabelle looked beyond Dante and into the stall. A child, probably not more than eight or nine years old, stood near his right flank. She wore a white straw hat and a pretty yellow dress. No wonder Dante and the other horses had been so nervous. They had an intruder in their midst. "What are you doing in there?" Isabelle opened the stall door, passing Dante, and took the girl by her slightly soiled white gloved hand. She led her out of the stall and scolded, "That's very dangerous. You could have been injured. You don't know how a …"  
  
"Daddy says he's going to buy me a horse and I wanted to look them over before I made my decision."  
  
"Well then, you should have an adult with you." Isabelle reprimanded. The child spoke well and was precocious. And yes, from the look of her she did indeed come from a family with great wealth.  
  
"None of the adults I'm with were interested in taking me down here." Her wide blue eyes looked about, "Too dirty for them, I guess."  
  
"If you're missing then your family are probably worried out of there minds." Isabelle reached for the girl's hand again, "I better take you …"  
  
"You say his name is Dante? Is he a stallion?" The girl reached over to pat the horse's long neck, effectively avoiding Isabelle's hands.  
  
"Well, no. Not quite."  
  
"Do you ride?"  
  
"I did. I mean, yes. I do. Dante here used to belong to me."  
  
The child's eye grew even wider and she looked up at Isabelle, "He's so beautiful. How can you give him up?"  
  
"A bit of bad luck, I'm afraid." Isabelle's tone took on a whimper of misery she didn't intend. Clearing her throat and adjusting her resolve, she once again reach for the girl's hand and caught it this time without interference. "But never you mind about that." She pulled her back and, with her free hand Isabelle pushed stall door shut.  
  
"I'm taking riding lessons but my instructor doesn't know a bridle from a stirrup. I hate him."  
  
"You shouldn't say such things." Isabelle admonished, "It's not easy to teach a girl as young as you to ride. I've taught a few people, some were five times older than you, and *that* wasn't easy."  
  
"You teach?" The girl beamed, awe stricken and inspired.  
  
"Miranda!" A young male voice - on the verge of just beginning a change - called, "Father is go to have puppies if he finds you down here. He has Williams searching all over the ship for you." The boy approached Isabelle and the girl, looking not quite a teenager but tall and quite striking. He bowed ever so slightly for Isabelle, showing off his manners. "Please to meet you. Timothy Wilke's the name, Miss."  
  
"Tim, she knows how to ride -- and she teaches!" Miranda revealed enthusiastically.  
  
The boy sighed, "Mir, that's great but Father …"  
  
"Okay look," Isabelle raised her voice to quiet the children, "Why don't I take you both out of here and back to your family." She glanced at Master Timothy and smiled, "Your father *is* going to be livid, I'm sure, but maybe we can convince him to bring you down here later."  
  
"Disturbed but not livid." Cheery, an older gentleman approached, dressed quite smartly and balancing his portly figure with a cane.  
  
"Daddy!" Miranda called and both children went to their father and hugged him on either side, "This lady knows horses!"  
  
"Does she now?" Smiling, he reached forward to shake Isabelle's hand, "Thank you for watching out for these scamps, Miss …"  
  
"Reed. Isabelle Reed. And they're both lovely children." she complimented.  
  
"Thank you. I am Lord Henry Wilke."  
  
"Nice to meet you."  
  
"My daughter here says you know something about horses. I did promise she and my son an animal of their own on this trip and, if you don't mind, I would sincerely like your opinion. What do you consider a good buy out of this lot for a young man and woman like Miranda and Timothy?"  
  
Isabelle considered a moment, rather pleased the distinguished gentleman thought enough of her at first sight to ask for a judgment. "Miranda, I think, would be more suited for a pony …"  
  
"No, no ponies! I want a horse!" The girl responded.  
  
Wilke nodded, "She's persistent." he remarked in a tired fashion, as if they had all been through it before. "This is why I'm insisting she take riding lessons. She's very stubborn but if my little girl is going to ride I want her to know what she's doing." Then, slightly lower, "*Is* there an animal here that's gentle enough for an eight year old?"  
  
Isabelle glanced once at Dante, "Yes, there is and I think I can make a recommendation for Master Tim as well."  
  
Wilke stared at Isabelle for a moment. He knew good, honest people when he saw them and this young woman seemed on the level. He glanced down at his daughter, who was holding her hand and appeared quite taken with Miss Reed. Even Timothy, who was not yet comfortable around either horseflesh or women appeared less timid than usual. "Alright then, give me the benefit of your experience." Wilke lifted a hand, indicating the horses. "Lead on, Miss Reed. Lead on."  
  
Isabelle chuckled and nodded.  
  
John O'Finney, who had been watching Lord Wilke and the woman, frowned.   
  
***  
  
"Can't believe these docking fees," Mauriri complained, glancing down at the receipt, as he and Grief left the harbor office. "I've been told no one but thieves live in Australia and I'm beginning to think it's true."  
  
They had settled into the harbor, Space #213, only an hour ago but already the sun was beginning to set.  
  
"Were only going to be here for a few days." Grief stated, his expression composed. "Once I find Isabelle … Well, it shouldn't take long to find out if this was a blunder."  
  
"It's the *finding* her that will be tough. Australia's a big place."  
  
"She didn't get that big of a jump on us and I don't think she had anything particular in mind when she got here, just to get a lead on a job and make quick cash."  
  
"Do you think she really intends to go to America?"  
  
"I don't know. She may have just been speaking to hear herself talk."  
  
Mauriri looked at Grief's profile as they walked from the waterfront into town. He was driven but also nervous. Finding Isabelle meant one of two things: She'd either tell him it was a mistake and he should leave immediately or Grief's life would change entirely when she told him what Mauriri thought was the truth; she was in love with him. Either way, the situation would take an emotional toll on the usually contained Captain David Grief. "Where do we start?"  
  
When they reached Bush Street, in the Main artery of the seaside community, Grief looked from one side of the busy circle to the next. "You go east and I'll go west. We'll meet back at The Rattler before midnight and compare notes."  
  
"Fine." Mauriri said, thinking of a few matters he needed to attend to himself. "Remember David, no drinking."  
  
Grief automatically lifted a hand to his head in memory. "You don't have to tell me twice, Mo." he said and parted company with his friend.  
  
  
****  
  
"Keep your heels up, Tim!" Isabelle called to the young man as he rode Captain around the circular corral his father had set up for he and his sister. Watching the boy and listening to the excited giggles of his sister, as she scrutinized her brother and tugged on the right leg of Isabelle's gray jodhpurs, Isabelle could not believe where fate had taken her. One moment she was giving an elderly Lord advice on horseflesh and the next moment he was hiring her to teach his children the fundamentals of riding.   
  
Of course, Isabelle realized she was going to be more than a riding instructor. It seemed the children had gone through several governesses over the past year, lost due to illness or marriage, and Wilke - along with his wife - could not find anyone adequate for the job. Isabelle quickly told him she was not governess material, she was not as well schooled as was required for such a position, but Lord Wilke told her she would do fine until someone better came along. Isabelle nearly refused until he said the magic words that, despite her new found pride, made Isabelle reconsider:  
  
"I pay very well."   
  
"How well?" Isabelle questioned with a smile and accepted the job the moment he tossed a very impressive figure in her direction.  
  
Two days had passed and tomorrow the horses were going to auction. Isabelle had convinced her employer that Dante and the horse she had named David, then renamed Captain, were the right horses for Miranda and Timothy. Both were her favorites, having a gentle demeanor and were fast learners, and it warmed Isabelle to know they would be going to a good family, a wealthy family, that would treat them right.   
  
Unfortunately, Lord Wilke missed the initial round of bidding that occurred early on, sight unseen, when the horses were still sailing to Australia. He would have to bid along with everyone else, in Sidney, once the auction started. Isabelle had little fear that he wouldn't score Dante and Captain. The children, particularly Miranda, loved them. And, since the horses were stabled on his own ranch, Isabelle took the liberty for some impromptu lessons.  
  
She had been a little taken aback when it was discovered that none other than John O'Finney was the family's stable master and foreman but, all things considered, he was rather good with horseflesh, even if he was an impatient man. He flirted with her outrageously during the ride into Wilke Ranch and Isabelle would hardly be a female if she hadn't been flattered by his attention, although she pretended otherwise. He was, after all, a very handsome man. But it would never go any further than flirtation, she decided, because Isabelle had known too many men like O'Finney, and the trouble they could cause. Besides, there was still something about him that caused her to feel ill at ease. Isabelle couldn't put her finger on it but red flags popped up every time he asked her to take a walk. She had yet to accept.  
  
But really, when Isabelle considered further, it might be her own imagination trying setting up a block to *any* male that might find her interesting. She was still nursing a broken heart, albeit one she had ordered, and would continue to do so for quite sometime. A woman could not be with a man like David Grief, feel his loving embrace, and expect to get over him in a few days. "Or ever." Isabelle whispered, preoccupied.  
  
"What?" Miranda asked, looking up at her, blue eyes wide with inquiry.  
  
'Distracted again.' Isabelle thought with a mild smile and touched the girl gently atop her blond head. "Never mind. You're up next, Miranda." Isabelle watch O'Finney lead Timothy from the corral and help him dismount. Another ranch hand brought in Dante and he helped the girl to sit on top the large gelding. "Take it slow, Miranda. Let the horse lead you for now." Isabelle advised.  
  
Timothy came up beside her and O'Finney followed, "How was I?" he asked, a small shine of accomplishment accentuating the boy's slightly freckled complexion.  
  
"Very good, Tim. You got Captain up to a trot and that's saying a lot considering it was your first time on a horse."  
  
"First time?" O'Finney scoffed, leaning his bulky weight against the fence, "Is that what you told her, lad?"  
  
Timothy shied away from the stable master's amused stare. "Well, maybe not my *first* time." he said.  
  
"Maybe your tenth time, fraidy-boy?"  
  
Embarrassed, Timothy glanced up at Isabelle. "I'm just not much for horses. They make me nervous."  
  
Isabelle frowned when she realized what was happening. "It's okay."  
  
"Nervous!" O'Finney laughed loudly, "Boy, I've seen you grow pea-green sick when you've been asked to do more than …"  
  
"Excuse me." Timothy walked away from the corral, in the direction of the great ranch house.  
  
Isabelle couldn't be certain but she thought she heard the boy sobbing. Angry, she glared briefly at O'Finney then looked back at Miranda as she went through her paces. "That was rude. Not all children learn to ride quickly. It takes more time for some. I think you should mind your own business in the future, Mr. O'Finney, and apologize to Timothy."  
  
The cheer in the stable master's expression lessoned and he scrutinized the children's new riding teacher. "Missy, I've been here a lot longer than you. It should be me telling you not to intrude where you are not wanted."  
  
"I think I am wanted here or Lord Wilke wouldn't have hired me." Isabelle replied.  
  
O'Finney snorted sarcastically, "I think we all know why he hired you."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Isabelle turned slowly, instantly catching the stable man's drift, and clamping down on her temper. If Miranda hadn't been there, watching them as she rode, Isabelle might have punch the glorified stable boy in the jaw.  
  
"Just watch your step, Missy." O'Finney moved slowly away, toward the stables, "That's all I have to say."  
  
The threat was not lost on Isabelle and she gradually began to see John O'Finney for what he truly was. When he wasn't trying to impress her or attempting to get her into his bed -- he was a bully. The red flags instantly came up again. The man could be very dangerous if not watched.  
  
***  
  
Midnight arrived and with it came good news.  
  
"Mauriri, you're brilliant!" David Grief took the weathered auction flyer from his friend's hand and read it in the lamp light. They had met, as previously discussed, on The Rattler and both were exhausted from their efforts.   
  
"It's just seemed logical to me. We know how Isabelle feels about Dante. Naturally, she'll want to see him auctioned."  
  
"She'll be there without a doubt. I can't believe I didn't think about that first."  
  
"You've been sidetracked lately, David." Mauriri slapped his friend gently on the back, "We're going to find her and everything will be fine. You'll see. Let's get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."  
  
'Sleep.' Grief sighed. He hadn't seen Isabelle for nearly a week and she was all he could think about. Sleep would not come easily to him this night. His thoughts would be of her and their impending meeting.  
  
****  
  
((The big reunion is coming soon …. Stay tuned!)) 


	6. Chapter 6

TOTSS  
"So far Away"  
by  
Beckers  
  
**Chapter 6**  
  
  
  
She had always been an early riser. Even as a child Isabelle Reed recalled waking early and sitting up in bed, playing "mommy" with her rag doll, Miss Marion. The quiet early morning hours allowed the child a special kind of peace. She could get lost in the fantasy of an idyllic life. Then, an hour or two later her mother would enter her bedroom, her breath already foul with the unpleasant smell of her first drink of the morning. Isabelle would dress then either go to school or leave the house to play. Mother didn't really care where she went and Father had left them years earlier. William, her much older big brother, was also gone.  
  
With a shake of her brunette head, dismissing not so fond memories, Isabelle tucked a light blue blouse into the waist of her darker blue skirt. Resolutely, Isabelle attempted to focus in on the day. The sun was just beginning to rise and the auction started at nine o'clock. It was going to be a beautiful day and crowded. The Wilke ranch was positioned in a perfect area. They were only a two hour carriage ride away from the large outdoor auditorium. The horses had been sent ahead last night.   
  
Everything was on schedule.   
  
"Don'tcha give me any sass boy or I'll cut you from head to toe, you understand?!"  
  
Startled, Isabelle stood still. Her quarters, unlike the Wilke family accommodations, was positioned on the first floor of the ranch house, next to the laundry room. Lady Wilke promised Isabelle they would eventually move her to a nicer living space but for now she took what she got and really didn't mind. The housekeeping staff were very kind to her. She liked being in their company. Yet, her walls were paper thin and she could hear nearly everything said and done inside and out. Isabelle recognized a rather nasty argument, which included a very familiar Irish accent. Slowly she advanced and peaked from behind the bedroom window curtain.  
  
"I've worked long and hard on this and if you double-cross me, my man, I'll …"  
  
"No fears! I swear, Johnny!"  
  
O'Finney had a portly man by the collar and was shaking him soundly, obviously enraged by something imparted. Isabelle narrowed her eyes and looked closely at the encounter. She had seen that man before but not on the Wilke ranch. She could hardly forget him. He was a scoundrel and she had shared a jail cell with him on Matavai. Ian Brewer had been arrested and sentenced for smuggling. How he managed to get out of prison she did not know but it looked as if he managed to get himself into trouble yet again.  
  
Something very bad was afoot.  
  
Groaning quietly in frustration, Isabelle knew what she must do but the outcome was not going to be pleasant. She would have to tell Lord Wilke a bit more about her background than she ever wanted revealed.   
  
***  
  
"I trusted you, Mr. O'Finney, treated you like … and you betrayed me!" Lord Wilke announced, his expression unyielding. He was a fair man but he was also a man of business. He had no time or sympathy for those who would do him wrong.  
  
Isabelle stood behind her employer. Beside her were two large farm hands who held Brewer between them. Cornered, he had confessed all in hope of a lighter prison term.  
  
"So, you are firing me, is that it?" The big Irishman asked, although it was obvious. He looked away from his accusers, almost chuckling. "And where am I to go?" he asked.  
  
"I don't care. I just do not want you here. I knew I was losing money somewhere, the figures my bookkeepers were coming up with did not match up to my own personal ledgers, but I could not imagine where the discrepancy existed. Now I know. You have been doing little side businesses on your own, at my expense -- with my property."  
  
Isabelle looked from one man to the other. She sensed something between them, perhaps a recollection from the past, that wasn't entirely explainable to those who were currently watching their confrontation. Not only had an employer-employee relationship been severed but also something more; a friendship perhaps and/or a deep trust. It had been hard for her to tell Lord Wilke what she knew of Brewer and she suspected he might dismiss her on the spot but her employer appeared unconcerned with her background, only with what she had revealed about O'Finney.  
  
"I could have you arrested. I *should* have you arrested but I'm just going to give you notice, John. Leave at once." He lifted a hand and pointed a finger in caution, "But I warn you, if I hear of the same business going on with my associates who have employed you there will be no mercy. I'll tell them everything I know."  
  
O'Finney looked at Isabelle Reed over Wilke's shoulder. "The little whore really got to you, didn't she?"  
  
"Get out, John. Now. I don't want to ever see your face anywhere near my land again!" The disappointment in Lord Wilke's voice was thick.   
  
With a defeated nod, the Irishman turned about. "I'll get my things."  
  
"No." Wilke said, "We'll send them on. Leave right now."  
  
With a grumble and curse, O'Finney did as he was told but not before tossing a threatening look in Isabelle's direction. 'Beware, my pretty.' it said.  
  
"Now, you." Wilke's turned to Brewer, "I want you gone too. Whatever arrangement you had with O'Finney is now null and void."  
  
"But … but he owes me money. I owe others money that he owes me. I …"  
  
"Then I suggest you take the next ship out of Sidney harbor and sail as quickly as you can away from those people you owe money -- because you will be getting none of mine. Do you understand?"  
  
Brewer nodded slowly then, like O'Finney before him, counted his losses and walked away.  
  
A moment of reflection passed then - as if nothing had just happened - Lord Wilke's voice lightened and he clapped his hands together, turning to look at his employees. "Now that the melodrama is over … You boys load up my family into the carriages and you, Miss Reed, come with me. I want you to sit in the coach with Lady Wilke. It's not often she gets the chance to talk with a real live heroine. And that you are, my dear."  
  
Isabelle nodded and smiled, relieved by Lord Wilke's benevolence and forgiveness, but she continued to watch John O'Finney as he retreated across the field and out the far gate, away from the Wilke lands. He did not turn around but she felt his fury clear across the field. In a sense she felt sorry for him. Where *was* he going to go from here? He was now a desperate man and they often made the worst decisions. Still, if he hadn't deceived his employer in the first place, if he had told him of the crisis that drove him to steal, Lord Wilke might have helped him. Isabelle was certain of it.  
  
****  
  
"I'm not Lord Wilke's first wife, you know." Lady Wilke, with a wave of her delicately embroidered and perfumed handkerchief, gossiped with Isabelle as they rode together to the auction.  
  
"No, I didn't know that." Isabelle answered, truthfully.  
  
"Oh no, he married some simple village girl long before myself, completely against the wishes of his own father, but she died young and it wasn't until much later, when Henry's father forgave him, that we met and married. I was very young, younger than you, but not too immature to fall in love with this dashing older gentleman and produce an heir." She waved out of their carriage window at the children who were being drawn by a similar but smaller carriage.  
  
If they waved back Isabelle could not tell. Lady Josephine Wilke was a lovely enough person who adored her husband and children but, unfortunately, she did suffer from a malady of her class. She felt her own words of wisdom far out-weighed that of anyone else in the world, particularly what she considered the lower echelon, and she made her opinions known in abundance. In reality, she was a rather pretentious woman with very little common sense. Still, she had been pleasant with Isabelle and was, indeed, quite attractive with a well coiffed hair style and all the most fashionable gowns. Lady Wilke was also an expert with manners, knowing where a napkin should be placed and just how warm the water in a guest's finger bowl should be. However, Isabelle doubted seriously she knew the first thing about horses.   
  
Nevertheless, an outing was an outing and some of the most important families in the region would be at this event. The mistress of the house was required to attend and Lady Wilke would not shirk her duty.  
  
"Miranda keeps telling me that once we get back to England she wants to go on a fox hunt." Lady Wilke quipped, "Can you imagine, an eight year old on a fox hunt? I hope your Dante knows what he's in for."  
  
Isabelle laugh quietly, "He's a good animal and I'm sure he'll be able to take whatever Miranda cares to dish out." Unaware of the effect, Isabelle tossed a portion of her long, lustrous hair behind her left shoulder.   
  
It was this completely typical and feminine gesture on the children's governess part that caused Lady Wilke to stare at the woman for a moment.   
  
Isabelle did a double take when she realized the woman was watching her.  
  
"You are a very beautiful lady, Miss Reed." she said with undeniable envy, "Your complexion is flawless and a man merely need to look into your stormy eyes and fall hopelessly in love."  
  
A bit astonished, Isabelle half smiled and blushed a little. "Umh …thank you."  
  
"You should get yourself a nice, wealthy man and settle down." Lady Wilke's expression grew somewhat somber, "Life and love is short and all too soon a woman's beauty fades and she must take what is offered without question -- even if her heart belongs elsewhere." Suddenly, Lady Wilke snapped herself out of her stupor, slightly embarrassed by what she had said. She brightened, "But then again, maybe that is what an independent woman of today wants. To be free. Times change. I know when I was younger, around your age, British society didn't …"   
  
Isabelle was so astounded by the similarity to her husband change of attitude, witnessed earlier in the day, she nearly mentioned it out loud but then decided to keep silent. Replying honestly, Isabelle said: "Who knows. Maybe one day I *will* find some tall, dark and handsome prince. Meanwhile, I'm afraid I let the man of my dreams go without a fight."  
  
"Ah." Lady Wilke smiled sympathetically and gently pursed her lips, "So you *have* been in love. And why did you let him go?"  
  
"Sometimes love is just not enough, particularly if it's crazed and makes no sense."  
  
"Did he break your heart?"  
  
"No, I think …" Isabelle hesitated, " … I broke *his*." She then amended, "Maybe."  
  
***  
  
Everybody loved a good animal auction, whether they be rich or poor, and by the time the horses arrived to be paraded around the circle of potential buyers, the crowd was in a frenzy of pre bidding fever.  
  
In the mid section of the bleachers, with the children on one side and Lady Wilke on the other, Isabelle visually scanned the horseflesh, catching sight of many of her own, including Captain. However, she could not find Dante. There were several hundred horses up for sale so she was not overly worried but she had hoped to give the gelding an encouraging call if she saw him.   
  
They had a wonderful connection, she and Dante. It was sometimes eerie. Isabelle recalled David once telling her that Dante must be some reincarnated member of her family that had come back to watch over her. They had chuckled about it back then but often she did wonder if Dante wasn't some sort of guardian angel. *Some angel,* a more cynical portion of her mind scolded, *An angel that allows your livelihood to be destroyed? An angel that finally shows you true passion and happiness only to have it all come at the worst possible time in your life?* No, not an angel or even family but a very important beast nevertheless.  
  
On the opposite end of the outside auditorium, positioned near the very top of the seating, Grief and Mauriri were also searching.   
  
"This is impossible." Mauriri's eyes raked the crowd. He had never seen so many wealthy white people in one place. It made him uncomfortable. Give him island life anytime. "Do you see anything?"  
  
Grief was scanning the crowd with his fold-out spyglass. "Nothing yet. The crowd's thick. Every time I spot a brunette that can compare to Isabelle she disappears into thin air." He folded the glass and heaved a sigh, "We may have to wait until the bidding start. Once Dante and the others are brought out Isabelle should …"  
  
"David, look!" Mauriri's keen vision had spotted a woman that looked enough like Isabelle to be her sister. But she was seated in a rather elite area, between a wealthy woman and her children. Was it possible?  
  
Grief lifted his glass again and pointed it to where the Polynesian directed, "You're right. That's her." He smiled and his tone was deceptively satisfied, "One thing I have to say about Isabelle, she always manages to land back on her feet again." She was gorgeous, dressed smartly, and seemed to fit in well with the society patrons about her, although Isabelle herself looked uncomfortable. He suspected it had to do with the loss of Dante and, dare he consider it, was she still thinking of him? Grief grimaced. He was behaving like a love-sick school boy. He passed the glass to Mauriri again, "I'm going to make my way over there. Keep an eye on her and signal if she moves."  
  
"Announcing lot number two-six-nine-nine!" came the call from the auctioneer.   
  
It was the moment the Wilke household were all waiting for: Dante and Captain.   
  
Isabelle leaned forward, anticipating what was to follow, but her brow creased when she did not observe what was expected. Captain was there but instead of Dante another of her stable, a light colored mustang, stood beside the gelding. "Where's Dante?" she whispered and looked below to where Lord Wilke stood, preparing to bid. He appeared as confused as she, glancing down at his program.  
  
"Lot number two-six-nine-nine. There has been a substitution." The announcer called, "A three year old gelding was sold pre auction and we now give you his twin gelding and a two year old mixed blood …"  
  
Isabelle stood, nearly panicked, unable to believe what she was hearing. Dante had already been sold? Who could have bought him? Where was he now? "Excuse me." Miss Reed spoke over her shoulder to Lady Wilke and quickly made her way down to the announcer's box.  
  
"Can I help you?" A young, powerfully built man blocked her entry into the box, guarding those inside it appeared.  
  
"Yes, I need some information." Isabelle said, "Lot two-six-nine-nine. There was a gelding my employer was to bid on that was replaced. Who has that gelding been sold to?"  
  
"I'm sorry but that is privileged information. When a horse is pre bought it usually means the owner wishes to remain anonymous."  
  
"I can understand that." Isabelle curled her fingers into fists, her fingernails nearly biting into her flesh, the pain calming her. "But you see this horse was very special to me …"  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss." the guard appeared genuinely sympathetic, touched by the pretty woman's sincerity and obvious sadness. "But if it will make you feel better, the animal will go to a good home. Horses sold during pre auction are usually bought at a higher price because the owner really likes what he sees. Your horse will be well taken care of."  
  
Isabelle gently bit her lower lip, looking up at the guard, her eyes glistening although her expression was as firm as it could be. "I understand and," she gulped, "thank you."  
  
Outside the arena, Isabelle moved off by herself into a small unoccupied area, away from the traffic of cheerful public sale patrons. She could paced, working off her anger and disappointment. She hadn't quite managed to get control of her emotions when she sensed rather than heard a presence. It couldn't be.  
  
"Isabelle." he spoke gently, aware of her misery. He had been there and saw what happened.  
  
This should have been the moment when she turned on him, strong and independent, asking all the right questions and getting answers she'd be certain to verbally reject. He had no right to be here. She had left a letter. That should have been enough. Why this torture?   
  
Yet now, after such a regret, after facing threats on the ranch and the loss of too much in such a small period of time, Isabelle could only sob. She needed his tenderness and sympathy. "David!" Isabelle fell into his embrace, feeling Grief's strong, comforting arms wrapping around her, his hands touching her hair and softly caressing her back. His lips softly touched her forehead.  
  
The couple stood together like this for sometime before Isabelle slowly straightened, gazing up into his compassionate expression, tears in her eyes. Softly, she spoke his name again, a hand lifting to - at first - touch his strong jaw. It then moved to the back of his head. This was crazy. She knew it. But, right now, she just did not care. With surprising strength, she pull him down to her - the act as much a hallowed request as permission - and claimed his lips with her own. All that mattered were his kisses, his presence, and her release from an indescribable ache.  
  
"Come back with me, Isabelle. Come back." he whispered between fevered kisses.  
  
"David, I can't!" Her words were a rejection but her actions differed, never loosening her hold on Grief until the man himself gently and reluctantly pulled her back. Yet, he still held her in a loose embrace.  
  
"Why?" he finally asked, breathing deeply, controlling his emotions as much as possible while still feeling her soft skin beneath his hands, "Isabelle, there is nothing here for you."  
  
"And twice that in Matavai." she replied, now looking up at him. Isabelle's eyes were still wet with tears but her manner had taken on a determined restraint. "Why did you come here, David? Why? I thought I made it clear …"  
  
"I had to know for sure." he began but her manner, the way Isabelle was steeling herself for his reply, made him uncertain, "I needed to know you would be all right."  
  
Clamping down firmly on self-control, she shook free from him. Yes of course, Isabelle thought. David Grief, the hero. David Grief, the savior of pretty women. Make certain they are well, be sure they can cope, but be careful of them, Captain Grief, because if they have their way they will pull you in and never let you go. "No need to worry about me, David. I am a survivor. I've been on my own for a long time." Isabelle gulped but her tone remained stern, "Go home to Matavai, David, and know you did me proud. You're not obligated to me any longer. The Rattler, and all the responsibility that goes with her, is yours."  
  
His eyes widened at the last comment, "Do you think that is what this is all about? You think because of the Rattler I might feel a sense of duty to you and no more?"  
  
"I know the way you think, David." Isabelle clarified, softly licking her lips, the sensation of his mouth on hers a lovely lingering memory. "My letter said everything. Put me aside, knowing what we had was beautiful, and go to the woman you love. I could never be Lavinia's replacement."  
  
"Lavinia?"  
  
"Jenny then!" Isabelle unintentionally barked. Why was he doing this to her? "God David, just leave me to my life! Go away!" She then ran from him, to where he didn't know, but was quickly swallowed by the crowd.  
  
Grief balanced himself against the wall they had been standing near and took a deep inhale of breath. It was as he feared. Mauriri was wrong. She didn't want or need him. He had lost her.  
  
"David," A worried Mauriri spotted Grief then called to him as he approached. "I just met someone and …" He clutched his friends shoulder, aware of an ill look on his face. "What is it?"  
  
"I saw her. We talked. Isabelle doesn't want anything to do with me. She thinks …"  
  
Startled, Mauriri looked into the crowd, "We need to find her."  
  
"Mauriri, you don't understand. She …"  
  
"No, David. *You* don't understand." The Polynesian took his friend by the shoulders and shook the misery from him, "I just talked with a man who disclosed some very disturbing information about Lord Wilke and his extended family. Isabelle's life is in grave danger!"  
  
***  
  
((Chapter 7 Coming Soon -- We're nearly done!)) 


	7. Chapter 7

TOTSS:  
"So Far Away"  
by Beckers  
  
  
***Chapter Seven***  
  
  
  
With her third deep, despondent sigh of the evening, Isabelle slowly ate the small red apple she held loosely in her left hand and rounded the enclosure. She eyed the new livestock. Five horses, including an African barbie, and in another corral twenty head of prime cattle. The horseflesh was particularly beautiful. All were healthy, broken and eager to serve their new masters. She continued to watch as, one by one, the horses were pulled from the corral and taken inside the barn to be shown their new lodgings. In a day or two each would be imprinted with the Wilke Ranch brand.   
  
Poignant but also proud, Isabelle watched as Captain was pulled from the hold. She smiled mildly. Tim would grow to love his horse. Captain had a way about him that could draw in a timid youth, given time and the right incentive, and Isabelle saw the boy brighten ever so slightly when Captain was won. Miranda, on the other hand, was not at all pleased about losing her intended, Dante. However, when the pinto was presented, it's soft nose nuzzling the child's pink cheek - as if attempting to get to know its new owner - Miranda giggled. The girl eventually, bright-eyed and smiling, walked with Isabelle to their coach and she told her governess she was going to name the horse Parsifal, from a book she once read.   
  
Isabelle merely smiled. No one in the Wilke household was aware of her true heartbreak. She hid it well. Dante had been a blow, of course, but at least she knew he would be treated well. On the other hand, the appearance of David Grief …   
  
With a last bite of her apple, Isabelle tossed its core to the side of the corral, and rubbed somewhat sticky fingers against her black jodhpurs.  
  
"David Alan Grief, I could just kill you." she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward, her head pressed firmly against the top wooden plank of the enclosure. What did he think he was doing, coming here to Australia and spying on her? He said he wanted her to come back with him but could give no sound reason why she should do such an impractical thing. Did he think by just asking she would do it? Did Grief consider her that insipid and hopeless? Was he delusional?  
  
Yes they had been together, exchanging the most intimate and physically overwhelming thing a man and woman could do with one another, during an incredibly beautiful night alone in the South Seas. It would live on in her heart and mind forever. Nonetheless, that *should* have been the end of it. They … *She* needed to move on. Grief was acting on gut instinct again and that would truly be the death of him one day, Isabelle thought. 'But I will not be responsible.' she swore. "You go your way and I'll go mine." she quietly demanded of the persistent picture she had envisioned of the good captain, on the Rattler, the wind sweeping through his sun tinge hair. Yet, the moment the powerful, self-reliant words left her mouth - when that image of Grief appeared in her mind - Isabelle could not prevent a sob. This was just madness. "Why am I so torn up inside?" It wasn't as if she had never been with a man before.  
  
'Because he came for you … he went out of his way for you … he loves you …' NO. Oh dear God, could it be true? Captain Grief, the knight with a damsel in every port? 'And you love him.'  
  
"I love him." The sentence rolled off her tongue and Isabelle's breath quickened once again. She had never been in love before and the revelation was difficult.  
  
During the first few months she had arrived in Matavai, when she was trying to get her business going, Miss Reed ended her days - filled with both physical fatigue and mental strain - in Lavinia's bar. One evening Isabelle recalled Lavinia talking to Clare about she and David's relationship. It was a private conversation between the two women and Lavinia never suspected Isabelle, who had been groggily nursing a drink at the bar, was listening in. Lavinia told the young, wide-eyed English girl how she and Captain Grief found time to be both lovers and friends, finding pleasure in one another and with others. There were times when David had to be gone weeks at a time and Lavinia knew he wasn't being a saint. He found satisfaction, she was sure, with any number of beautiful women, from near and afar. Lavinia had also mentioned that *she* hadn't been exclusive either. Nights in Matavai could be quite lonely. That was the beauty of she and David's bond, Lavinia had said. It was open yet exclusive at the same time. They loved each other and one day they would settle but, for now, there were just too many adventures, which also included handsome men and beautiful women, to be had.   
  
Isabelle could half laugh about it now. It had been a paltry justification. Lavinia was trying to convince herself that all was well in their world. And, if what she said were true, if David often found pleasure in the arms and beds of other women, then why did he reject Isabelle every time she attempted to seduce him? And why, Isabelle suddenly wondered, had Lavinia been so openly jealous when she suspected he had slept with the newcomer? Did she somehow construe that Captain Grief's feelings for the accused murderess reached down further than a casual affair? Did she think, even way back then, that there could be more between Isabelle Reed and David Grief than what met the eye? Something that might perhaps exclude her?   
  
When it came down to it, as intelligent as she was, maybe Lavinia didn't know Captain Grief as well as she thought she did. And maybe … just maybe … David had been telling the truth when he said Lavinia was in his past -- and it was never really in the stars for them to remain together.  
  
Isabelle straightened. 'Perhaps *I* don't know David Grief as well as I thought I did.' she considered with a bewildered groan. "I love him." she whispered, "And I need to tell him."  
  
When the last of the horses had been pulled from the corral to be stalled, Isabelle - deep in thought ('I need to find him. How am I going to find him?') - started back to the ranch house. They had eaten supper hours ago and she promised to read a bedtime story to Miranda when she returned. 'Yes.' Isabelle recalled the girl's request, 'Something about a princess and her horse.'   
  
Halfway between the barn and house Isabelle thought she heard a crunching noise, as if someone with big boots had stepped on a brittle twig. "Angus?" She turned about and called to the new foreman. Lord Wilke had promoted him earlier in the day, once O'Finney made his exit. "Is that you?" Isabelle saw no one, the man and his workers still busy in the barn with the horses, and this made her nervous. She was sure she heard something but the day had been so hectic and emotional ... Perhaps her mind really wasn't where it should be.   
  
With a frustrated growl, Isabelle swiveled about once again to return to the house. She was suddenly staggered when a rough hand clamped over her mouth and her head was wrenched backward. The woman looked up into severe and faintly deranged brown eyes and felt an intense fear grip her, as well as powerful arms. Isabelle recognized him and would have cried out if she could.  
  
"It is bad enough those brats will inherit all that should be mine but I *will not* have any bastard child of yours become heir to my wealth as well!" John O'Finney snarled and heaved Isabelle, with the help of two other men she did not know, to an out-building.  
  
Isabelle fought as best she could, managing to throw one of the men from her and soundly punching the face of another. However, in the end, she hadn't a chance. The last thing Isabelle heard before a black hood covered her face and she was rendered unconscious was the men discussing the best way for "the woman" to meet her end.  
  
***  
  
The following morning, two gentlemen were greeted cordially when they announced themselves at the seasonal home of Lord and Lady Wilke. The mistress of the house, up early for church services, was preparing to go in for breakfast when the men, at the front door, announced to a servant that they were friends of Isabelle Reed. Lady Wilke, excusing her servant, invited the visitors in and told them Miss Reed would be to breakfast shortly. "Please, sit and talk with me a few minutes." she encouraged.   
  
Both men were handsome, Lady Wilke noted as her maid, Lahiea, poured each a cup of coffee. However, it was Captain Grief that held her attention. This *had* to be the man Isabelle spoke of in the carriage. She was almost certain of it although the children's governess had never given her details about the lover she let get away. "Would you like something to eat?" Lady Wilke asked, politely.  
  
"Thank you, no." Mauriri said, "We hate to be curt but we're here because we think Isabelle, perhaps your entire family, could be in danger."  
  
Startled, Lady Wilke placed both hands on the white lace table cloth and stared at her visitors, "Danger? What makes you think that?"  
  
"Mauriri spoke with a man during the auction yesterday …" Grief began.  
  
"You were there?" Lady Wilke asked, astonished.  
  
"Yes, I spoke with Isabelle."  
  
"She never said a word."  
  
Grief nodded. 'She has her reasons,' he reflected silently. "This man told Mauriri that a John O'Finney had been released by the Wilke's ranch yesterday morning and he had been heard in a local waterfront tavern making threats against your family …"  
  
"I'm not surprised." Lord Wilke entered the dining area, wearing an impressive blue suit, and spoke in a firm, resonating voice. He reached out a hand and shook with both Mauriri and Grief, "I'm afraid John O'Finney was stealing from me, gentelmen. He'd been with the ranch for over two years and he thought he could pull a fast one on me. Thanks to Miss Reed, who overheard a conversation he was having with his partner in crime, we caught him red-handed. His associate, an Ian Brewer, confirmed it."  
  
"But there is more, Lord Wilke. O'Finney has said …." Mauriri unexpectedly looked uncomfortable in the presence of Lady Wilke and hesitated.  
  
"I have no secrets from my wife." Wilke stated as he realized where the wavering, however delicate it might be, was directed. "Say it, sir. I insist."  
  
Grief looked from Mauriri to Lord Wilke, "O'Finney has stated that he is your son from a previous marriage. Apparently that marriage was annulled but when it was found you had a son he was quickly taken to an orphanage, never to be heard from again, until he approached you two years ago and told you his story."  
  
"Ridiculous!" Lord Wilke exclaimed, "Gentlemen, I *was* married when very young," He touched the shoulder of Lady Wilke who looked up at her husband. "but I'm afraid my wife died within a year of our marriage. She *was* a lovely Irish girl but she was also very ill and could not have children. After she passed the marriage was annulled, as you say, but there had never been children."  
  
Mauriri's confusion was genuine, "O'Finney sincerely believes you are his father and that he is entitled to a part, if not all, of your fortune."  
  
"He was always a strange man." Lady Wilke whispered, appearing nervous. "But he was also very convincing."  
  
Lord Wilke looked down at his wife as a thought gradually occurred to him, "Josephine, now that I think about it, you were actually the person who presented John to me. You told me he had good references and he appeared a reliable man. You suggested him as our cattle and land foreman."  
  
Lady Wilke could feel the eyes of the men on her and she sighed, "Two years ago when we came here on our annual winter trip, John O'Finney came to me while you were making arrangements for our luggage. I was standing at the docks with the children and Mrs. Corrigan, their governess." Lady Wilke stood and picked up her napkin. She watched as their guests also stood. "Mr. O'Finney called to me and pulled me aside." She looked directly at Lord Wilke as she spoke, "He told me the same story, how he was your son but had been spurned. I felt sorry for him …"  
  
"You believed him?" Lord Wilke appeared appalled.  
  
"He seemed so bloody sincere and, well dear, we were not getting on very well at that time. Do you remember?"  
  
Wilke reluctantly nodded.   
  
"He seemed to truly believe what he said and you never really told me too much of your background before we were married. I knew you were a widower but every time I tried to talk with you about your first wife and life, you never wanted to go into it. You closed yourself off to me." Guilt marred both faces as she continued. "Later, I realized it was because her death had been so painful and personal. But I often wondered, if your father hadn't agreed to bring you back into the family, to give you your inheritance, would you ever have had the marriage annulled? And if there had been children, a child not born of blue blood, could you have given him up because of potential wealth?" Lady Wilke stared at her husband, deeply sorry. "I just wasn't sure -- and that's why I made introductions. I thought if he could work with us awhile, if you two could talk, maybe an understanding could be reached …" she shook her head slightly, "But after awhile it came to me that John O'Finney couldn't possibly be your son and I was regretful … but he still seemed like a good worker so I never said anything more about it."  
  
"Excuse me," Grief interrupted, "What finally convinced you that O'Finney wasn't your husband's son?"  
  
"I did some research on my own and discovered the family that left him at the orphanage as a baby had six other children and simply could not afford another mouth to feed. It was as simple as that but Mr. O'Finney could not accept this information when I presented it to him. So, I let it go."  
  
"It was probably shortly after that he started to steal from you, Lord Wilke." Mauriri commented.  
  
"I'm sorry, darling." Lady Wilke touched her husbands collar, "I should have told you but he appeared a good foreman and I didn't want to cause either of you further heartache."  
  
Lord Wilke digested the revelation. "John was a hard worker and young friend to me for awhile, I admit it, and I could almost picture him as a son, born to me all those years ago, but he just wasn't. I was very sorry I had to let him go." Lord Wilke nodded, patted his spouse's hand, then turned his attention back to the men. "But you say there may be danger?" he asked.  
  
"Apparently O'Finney remains misguided," Grief stated, "Because he's still convinced he should inherit and the person we got this information from said he's willing to do anything, including murder, to get what he thinks is his."  
  
"And what has us concerned, " Mauriri added, "is that he mentioned Isabelle by name as the first on his list to be dealt with. He blames her for his dismissal."  
  
"Oh, my goodness!" Lady Wilke gasped, "Henry we better warn her …"  
  
"Mama," Miranda Wilke, with a rustle of yellow Sunday silk, walked into the dining area and appeared distressed, "Is Miss Isabelle all right?" she asked.  
  
Lady Wilke left the men for a moment to comfort the child, "I'm sure she will be fine, dear. Whatever you heard here …"  
  
"I didn't hear anything." the child said, her eyes wide and honest. "But she never came to my room last night to tuck me in and read me a story. She promised."  
  
Mauriri and Grief, having heard what Miranda said, looked at one another and quickly made their way out of the Wilke home.  
  
***  
  
"You'll never get away with this!" Isabelle warned, sitting in the flat-back of the rocking wagon, her hands and feet bound, being gently jostled from side to side. The hood had been removed, because he said he loved to look into her gorgeous eyes, and she now stared directly at O'Finney who was sitting opposite of her, letting his men drive the team. "Someone will come for me. You have no idea how much trouble you're in!"  
  
"By the time they start searching you will be long gone, darlin'."  
  
"You're going to kill me?" Isabelle asked, a slight catch in her throat despite a stern expression.  
  
"I thought of it." He lifted a bottle and drank deeply, then: "But a better idea came to me last night. He looked up to where the wagon driver sat, "Benny there is acquainted with a group of fine blokes, men he owes money, who are a wee bit incorrigible."  
  
Isabelle noted how O'Finney's Irish accent grew thicker the more he drank.  
  
"They are business men who are willing to pay a fine price, or dismiss a debt, if the right woman were to be brought to their attention."  
  
"Prostitution?" Isabelle could feel her heart thudding in her chest, "You can't … not if I won't …."  
  
"Oh no, love. Nothing as vulgar as that." He lifted a hand and touched Isabelle's knee, noting how she instantly moved, as if she thought him diseased. "You will be draped in fine silks and satins from all over the world. You will be given jewelry and more if chosen as a bride … in time."  
  
"White slavery?" Isabelle breathed heavily outward. She had heard of such things but never thought to be a participant. "But that would still require my willingness to …"  
  
"Not necessarily. The people you will be sold to have ways of making young women, those who misbehave, *compliant*." he sneered, enjoying her torment. "Just accept it, Miss Reed, and you will be far better off than if you had to be … disciplined."  
  
"You filthy animal." she hissed.  
  
O'Finney laughed and drank once again from his bottle. He loved her spirit and if Isabelle hadn't of caused so many problems with her meddling he might have enjoyed seducing her. Ah, but could he ever be certain such a devious female was falling for his charms? After all, Miss Reed was already a woman of dubious virtue -- Wilke's tart. She and her kind were hard and calculating and knew far more than they ever let on about men and how to manipulate them. 'She will do well in a harem.' he thought. O'Finney hoped whoever bought Isabelle would be cruel, using the lash often, teaching her a well deserved lesson.  
  
Isabelle looked away from her captor and closed her eyes. 'Oh David,' she silently prayed, 'if you are out there and able to hear my thoughts, please come for me -- and know I'm sorry for running away. I *do* love you …"  
  
****  
  
((This story is becoming quite an epic but, no fear! Another reunion coming in Chapter 8 AND the conclusion IS drawing very close! *Thank you for all your fine, kind and helpful comments - Beckers*)) 


	8. Chapter 8

TOTSS  
"So Far Away"  
  
  
  
***Chapter Eight***  
  
  
  
It was nearing twilight on a Sunday evening and the docks were virtually deserted, except for a small group of men and one woman. They were engaged in a tense business matter.  
  
"Mr. Jones, we have been waiting here over two hours for your arrival." O'Finney spoke calmly if a little petulantly, "We had it on good authority that this is the type of woman your boss prefers." He petted the side of Isabelle's head, unaware of her scowl as he touched her. "Here she is. Is she not beautiful? Does she not square us? "  
  
Gagged and arms tied painfully to her back, Isabelle listened in on the conversation O'Finney was having with a shorter man wearing an impressive blue suit. He wasn't powerfully built but he displayed an expression that plainly shown he had been here, in this same situation, many times before. *Mr. Jones* appeared vaguely Asian to Isabelle but he spoke perfect English. Behind him stood two unsmiling larger men, also impressively dressed.   
  
In Isabelle's unsolicited opinion, all three appeared highly dangerous .  
  
"Yes. She is beautiful, as promised, but my master requires more than just a pretty face." Mr. Jones looked Isabelle up and down once again, obviously unhappy with her jodhpurs and dark blouse. "Take off the gag. Untie her" he ordered. After it was done, he grasped one of Isabelle's hands, checking fingernails and the skin on her palms and fingers, "This woman has labored." he observed, distantly impressed, and felt her upper arms, "Good muscle tone. Healthy."  
  
Isabelle managed to hold back her anger and keep silent while all this was going on, fearing the gag might be returned, but when the man forced her lips apart with his fingers and started to examine her teeth, like she was livestock, the woman could take the humiliation no longer. She parted her teeth and bit down on his fingers hard. She was painfully jerked backward by O'Finney's partner as a curse was uttered by the Asian.  
  
"Yes, Mr. O'Finney." The man finally said, regaining poise and appearing almost amused for the first time, "She has spirit and my master will enjoy breaking it. We agree."  
  
"Very good, Mr. Jones. How will you be taking the merchandise?"  
  
"We have a private ship docked in space number thirty two." He lifted two fingers and pointed at Isabelle, an indicator to his subordinates. "My men will procure her now."  
  
Without delay, the two larger men took an arm a piece and pulled the disinclined woman with them.  
  
"And the debt is now paid in full?" O'Finney asked, to be certain.  
  
"Yes." the Asian replied - waiting - knowing what would come next. Men like O'Finney were nothing unique to a businessman like Mr. Jones.  
  
"There was talk that there might also be a finders reward." O'Finney stated, making it sound like a suggestion, but not entirely hiding a threat. If O'Finney was prompted he could easily talk to quite a few people who might make it uncomfortable for men like Mr. Jones, and whoever it was that employed him. "It took a great deal of effort to find a feisty beauty like Miss Reed. A female who will never be traced."   
  
He held out a hand.  
  
"I see." Mr. Jones looked at O'Finney and his partner for a few moments then nodded, "Forgive me my lack of gratitude." The man reached into the inside of his coat pocket and brought out a hand gun. He shot twice, first at O'Finney's partner then at O'Finney himself.   
  
Both men fell to the wooden platform, eyes wide in disbelief.  
  
Isabelle cried out. O'Finney was an insufferable fiend and fool but, if she were being honest with herself, she saw a tiny portion of him in some of her best friends (and perhaps even herself), back when she lived a less than wholesome lifestyle in England, and she never would have wanted anything like this to happen the them -- or herself.  
  
"Enjoy your reward, gentlemen," Mr. Jones said turning, "in the hereafter." He followed his men as they pulled their newest acquisition with them to the ship.  
  
***  
  
"This one is gone, David." Mauriri announced, examining the bullet wound to the bedraggled and motionless man's chest.  
  
They had ridden all night and it was still early, before the fishermen came out to ply their trade. They had found O'Finney and his partner laying on the dock. Blood was trickling from the Irishman's mouth and a gurgle came from deep in his throat.  
  
"Save your soul." David Grief said to him, "Tell us where they have taken Isabelle."  
  
Gulping and breathing in a last gasp of air, lifting a finger to point where his vision could not see, O'Finney said: "A ship. Dock thirty two. Go get her …"   
  
John O'Finney, appearing a man of many deep regrets, then died.  
  
****  
  
"No! Let go of me!" She struggled against the two gorilla-like men who held her, "You can't just take me like this. I'll ..."  
  
"You will do nothing, young woman, because there is no one out there who cares whether you live or die." Mr. Jones stated blandly as he motioned to the grizzled captain of their ship to prepare them for departure.  
  
"It's not true. I have friends ... and a husband!" Isabelle attempted, all in vain, to pry a wrist free from one of her captors. If she could just get free she'd lay on a teeth rattling punch that Mr. Jones would not soon forget.   
  
He all at once grasped her by the chin and made Isabelle look at him, "If that is the case then we will kill you right here and dump your dead carcass into the ocean. You are of no use to us if you have a lover that might come to call." he stated firmly, "Now tell the truth, woman. Are you wed? Shall I cut your throat?" He pulled a switchblade knife from his vest pocket and brought its sharp tip up for Isabelle to see.  
  
"No," she quickly said, "No husband. No lover." Isabelle looked down at her feet, regretful because she feared she now was telling the entire the truth. "I lied. No one will miss me." If only she could have reached David when ...  
  
"I wouldn't say that!" Mauriri, from out of the shadows, approached. He walked slowly on the wooden platform like a ghostly apparition.  
  
Isabelle's eyes widened. Where there was Mauriri there was always ...  
  
A loud "thunk" was heard and the group turned about to see David Grief aboard the ship, having just knocked their captain unconscious with a heavy chain he had found somewhere.  
  
"Get them!"  
  
At Mr. Jones order, the men threw Isabelle down on the wooden platform. One ran in the direction of Mauriri and the other jumped onto the ship, after Captain Grief. Isabelle was bruised but not harmed so she quickly got to her feet. She nearly made a lunge for Mr. Jones when his blade came up once again, warning her that any intervention could mean damage or death.  
  
The large Asian who came after Mauriri had far too much momentum on his side. Mauriri merely leapt aside and watched him smash head long into a stack of crates. Mauriri helped him along by, in a not so gentlemanly fashion, kicking the man from behind as he passed him on his ill fated run.  
  
Grief, meanwhile, had the advantage of a somewhat smaller and more limber body than his opponent. The bulky man swung at him several times aboard ship but missed completely when Grief dodged his advance.  
  
Mr. Jones, seeing that all was not going well for his men, knew he had little time to lose. While Isabelle was distracted, not just by his blade but by her friends and their violent confrontations, he swung forward and knocked the woman down. The Asian then ran along the platform before she could once again scramble to her feet. Isabelle ran for a few minutes but Mr. Jones had been swallowed by the fog. She didn't know where he could have gone. Thwarted, she returned to where Mauriri and David fought.  
  
"David, look out!" Mauriri called. He had his own assailant tied and bound but noted that his partner was now facing a nameless chap who, like his master before him, was sporting a dangerous looking dagger. He waved it in front of Grief's face as they circled one another, appearing pleased that the Captain was taking him seriously now.  
  
"Are you skilled with that, my friend?" Grief asked.  
  
In response, the man thrust forward and caught Grief with a nasty slice.  
  
"David!" Isabelle cried, now standing beside Mauriri, and realizing her loved one could be in serious trouble. He wore his red shirt but it did not hide the darkening patch of moisture dampening the material at his shoulder.  
  
The man, pushing his luck, tried another swipe but missed clean, giving Grief an opportunity to dodge. Grief then kicked out, catching the Asian behind his legs, and watched as he fell ... on his own dagger.  
  
***  
  
As Mauriri talked with the constable, straightening matters out, the couple sat on a bench which looked out to the sea but, for the longest time, they said nothing. However, when Isabelle could not bandage his shoulder wound any further, and when the sea gulls they had been watching flew away to an area of greater interests, the man and woman focused uncertainly on each other.   
  
"Why did you do it, Isabelle? " he whispered, seeming to speak from a far away place. "How could you just leave like that?"   
  
"Please, David. Don't do this." Isabelle closed her eyes with both shame and frustration.   
  
"After all we shared ... Did it mean so little?"   
  
"David!" A sob escape her lips. Did he not read her letter? "Can't you see that I had to do this? It wasn't easy. I hated it. But I was afraid, terrified of what might become of me if I allowed myself the luxury of feeling too much with you. I don't do attachment well. All of my love affairs seemed to end in tragedy. "   
  
"And is that what it was Isabelle? An affair. Nothing more?" He spoke so quietly she could barely hear him.  
  
"If I were to tell you "no" what would it mean to you?" she asked, "Would you be willing to give up your current way of life for me? The Rattler? Matavai?" Then she looked away from him. Her eyes cast downward, "Lavinia?" She spoke the woman's name for effect even though Isabelle knew Captain Grief's ex lover was not an issue anymore.   
  
But in Grief's view this was the real issue between them. How could he and Isabelle ever start a relationship if she didn't think he and Lavinia had ever ended? "She is no longer mine to give up, Isabelle. You know that." Then he ran a hand through his tousled hair and leaned back on the bench, "Hell, even when we were together she was never really any man's to keep or give away. A guy knows when it's right ... and as much as I cared for Lavinia we were predestined to fail." He smiled a fond reminiscence, "Maybe that was what made our time together so special. Unique even. She is independent and so am I. In our hearts we knew it couldn't last."  
  
"But she wanted you. She wanted marriage and to have your children."  
  
"I know." He grew awkward once again.   
  
"I take it the charm wore off when she started to make noises about commitment." Isabelle said, slightly bitter. She had been around too many men not to know what made them cool when the passion between lovers was at its hottest. "You know, there was a time in my life when having a casual affair, especially with someone as strong, confident and handsome as you, might have been all that I needed."  
  
"And now?"  
  
The sun was peaking over the horizon.  
  
Isabelle looked away from him at a small rowboat that was pushing off. The fishermen were finally on their way to work. "I'm about to disappoint you terribly, David." she said, "I want more from a man than to have him warm my bed when the moment suits him ... or us. Lavinia and I may not see eye to eye on a lot of things but she's right about this one." Isabelle glanced at Grief's profile, as he looked out to sea, listening to what she had to say. "Considering all we have been through, as many times as I have tried to seduce you, does that make me sound like a hypocrite?" Isabelle studied him, gazed upon David Grief's dumbfounded expression, and she found herself chuckling. "Don't panic, David. I'm not trying to corner you. To the contrary. I'm just trying to let you know how is with me now. And I'll completely understand if you want to leave with Mauriri right now. You owe me nothing."   
  
Isabelle watched as Mauriri finished speaking with the police. They appeared satisfied with whatever explanation he gave them. "I don't believe Mr. O'Finney's business partners will be a problem any longer and, as you well know, the Wilke's love me. Particularly the children." she informed, quietly.   
  
"Don't doubt it a minute." Grief complimented. Then: "Are you happy?"  
  
"I could be. In time."  
  
"Wish I knew what to tell you, Isabelle. I came here to say so much but now it's all lost to me."  
  
"I know you're torn, David, and I understand. This is one of the main reasons I left. If you weren't ready for commitment with Lavinia, who you adored, how could I possibly think that you would be willing to settle down, to have any type of commitment, with me? Especially now, when I have absolutely *nothing* to offer."   
  
Stunned, David Grief shook his head back and forth, smiling at the way Isabel's reason worked. "You think you know me but you've never been further off the mark than this. How can you think that I could only love a woman who was successful with her own business?"   
  
"That *has* been your modus operandi, Captain Grief. At least, from what I've seen." -- 'And a penchants for pretty ladies in distress.' Isabelle thought but did not say it.  
  
"I'm sorry I misled you."   
  
Again Isabelle closed her eyes and came to grips with what the handsome captain was imparting. "Let me get this straight, David. Are you trying to tell me that you *do* want me? After eighteen months of knowing one another, of working side-by-side, of me relentlessly flirting and you showing next to no interest or indifference, you're telling me ... what? I need to hear it from your own lips."   
  
Now he turned to look at her, "I was never uninterested." Grief lifted a hand and touched her cheek. He was amazed to see the fear in her eyes. "I sailed all the way from Matavai to bloody Australia to find you because I thought you *had* to know ... I'm in love with you, Isabelle Reed. I want you to come back with me. I cannot promise you a white picket fence, a dog, a good sturdy home or even freedom from a wildly unconventional lifestyle but I can promise you *love* -- and commitment. That is ... if you're still willing to have me, with all my faults." He paused as a troublesome thought entered into his head, "I *can* be exclusive, I think you know that, but … " He paused to get this final thought straight in his mind, "… I don't think I could ever give up the sea, Isabelle. That is the one place where I draw the line."  
  
She smiled, "I wouldn't want you to. You love it so much. It's in your blood." Isabelle searched his face for a sign of deception. She saw none. "The sea is you, David."  
  
"So it comes down to this," Grief's expression was relieved, serious but also tender, "Are *you* in love with me? Are *you* willing to come back to Matavai with me, Isabelle? Are *you* willing to give us a chance?"  
  
Isabelle sensed he was holding his breath and she could not bare Grief's uncertainty when her reply could only be: "Yes …" she breathed, then with more gusto, "Oh yes, David!" Dazed, she felt him take her in his strong arms, not caring if it disturbed his wound. If she had any lingering doubts about his faithfulness they were erased when she felt his warm, soft lips touch hers, parting ever so carefully, exploring her lips and face, a free hand reaching to touch her hair. Bliss. Memories of their one night together came back full force and she reached for him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel David Grief's glorious mouth on the skin of her neck. "Oh, David!" and wanting to feel the length of his body press her own.  
  
She gasped and prayed that this moment would never end.   
  
But it had to.  
  
"Ahem!" came from the throat of a slightly embarrassed Polynesian. "Looks as if things are working out here." he half joked.  
  
The couple parted, also self-conscious, and looked sheepishly at their friend.  
  
"Isabelle has decided to come back with us." Grief announced.  
  
"With you." Mauriri corrected. "I am going to take this ship." He indicated a freighter docked nearby, ready - it seemed - to push off.  
  
"You don't have to do that, Mauriri." Isabelle said, quickly.  
  
"No, you two need some time to yourselves. I suggest you get on the Rattler, take your time going home, avoid pirates, and talk to each other." He smiled, "I've never seen two people so perfect for one another … but who can't communicate worth a herring." He lifted a hand to shake both of theirs, "I'll be waiting for you on Matavai."   
  
"We'll see you at home, my friend." Grief nodded.  
  
***  
  
They took the time to say goodbye to the Wilke family.   
  
The children were upset that yet another governess, one they had grown to love in a very short period of time, was going to leave them. However, Isabelle promised to visit when the family came to Australia the following Winter. She told Miranda to pay attention to her riding instructor and not to sass he or she. "A young girl like you has much to learn." Isabelle also spoke quietly to Tim and told him it was important he learn to master a horse. However, there were far more important things in life than this. "Search for whatever it is that makes you happy. Then stick to it." The boy smiled and nodded, especially after she ruffled his hair and kissed him on the forehead.  
  
Lord and Lady Wilke spoke quietly with David for awhile, appearing to be thinking seriously about something he said, then their expressions brightened upon seeing Isabelle's approach.  
  
"Thank you for everything." Isabelle said sincerely, hugging both. "If it hadn't been for you I might have …"  
  
"Oh My Dear!" Lady Wilke said, "When I think of the danger you were in because of *our* lack of vision, I just shudder. It should be us thanking you. John O'Finney could have …"  
  
"But he didn't." Isabelle said, with a mild smile, calming the woman. "And he will never bother your family again."  
  
A few more hand shakes and hugs then Isabelle and David Grief were off.  
  
They were going home.  
  
****  
  
They sailed all day, laughing with one another, teasing and flirting. And - as Mauriri suggested - they talked. Serious talk about where, as a couple, they were going and how they would get there. There was so much they needed to say. Yet, there were some things they would never have to impart … They knew. They just knew. Isabelle and David talked about the past and the future. But both, by silent consensus, decided not to go *too* far into the future. So much could happen. Of their love they were sure but living, as they did, their lives filled with adventure and danger … who could know what card fate would deal them next.  
  
Yes, the here and now. That was what was important.  
  
And, as the sun set on a beautiful day, as Grief dropped anchor near a small island halfway between Sydney harbor and the Koala islands, as they munched on supper, and drank slowly of their glasses of wine, noting how cool the air about them was becoming … ideas began to form.  
  
There were ways to keep warm and the best way, between a couple who already knew what joy their physical bonding could produce, was below, in a cabin on a bed big enough for two.  
  
****  
  
  
((There is an added paragraph to this section of the story that goes beyond the range of an R rating. Intimacy between a man and woman is involved. If you do not wish to read this scene it will not impede the rest of the story. You can go onto the next chapter without fear. However, if you would like to read it please go to the following site and click where indicated:   
http://beckers13.tripod.com/TalesoftheSout/FanFicx.html  
Thank you, Beckers))  
  
  
((ONE MORE CHAPTER AND WE'RE DONE ….)) 


	9. Chapter 9 CONCLUSION

TOTSS  
"So Far Away"  
  
**Chapter 9**  
  
  
In three days they would be home. Gently, she reached up from behind him to massage his shoulders, being careful of his recent wound.   
  
Captain Grief, now at the wheel of the Rattler, leaned his head back, his face close to hers, and smiled. "Nice." he whispered, enjoying their contact. There was a time when Isabelle's touch caused Grief excessive suspicion. He would wonder if she was genuinely interested, truly desired him, or if she *wanted* something else, possibly tips on trading and selling. But now her fingers created sensations far more enjoyable than wariness.   
  
Last night. His cabin. Paradise. Grief didn't know if it was his worship for this woman that amplified his passions, the way he saw their coupling, or if she had somehow tapped into buried emotions - his true wants and needs - feelings Grief never knew he possessed.   
  
Mauriri would laugh about that. David Grief, the confirmed bachelor, feeling something so strong for one single female, a woman they had both originally thought nothing but trouble, that he was beginning to doubt an appreciation of single-man status. Grief told Isabelle he could never give up the sea for her and she understood but last night, when they were together, in the aftermath, when they were speaking softly to one another, sweet words of devotion, he *could* have given it up. All of it. She only needed ask and he would have agreed to sell the Rattler, did whatever it was she wanted of him … and would later have regretted it profoundly. 'But you didn't and she didn't. *She* wouldn't. All is well.' he pondered, content. Grief reached to his shoulder and caressed her hand.   
  
Isabelle bowed her head and softly kissed his cheek, "Eyes on the ocean, Captain." she ordered, "I want to get home in one piece."  
  
He chuckled and did as he was told. There was a comfortable silence between them.  
  
Softly running her fingertips through the back of his sun lightened hair, Isabelle was glad Grief could not see her troubled expression. She hid it from him because he appeared so deeply happy right now and she could not bear to be the cause of further worry on his part. Isabelle was afraid. She was going back to Matavai but the reasons for her initial departure remained. What was she going to do once she returned?   
  
Yes, she loved the island and its people, adored the scenery and customs. And now, Isabelle was thoroughly in love with David Grief, and yearned to be anywhere he chose to live. 'It should be enough.' she told herself repeatedly. Yet, what was she going to do while he was away on one of those extended sea voyages he and Mauriri often undertook? Could she be happy, sitting around waiting for him? David would let her go with him, Isabelle knew, but he and Mauriri shared something together - with the Rattler - that was beyond her understanding. She would not interfere or stand in the way of such a friendship. The ship was their brotherly bond.  
  
Grief reminded Isabelle during the calm, in aftermath of their love making last night, that she was in charge of their finances and would keep busy booking appointments for he and Mauriri. She laughed at his version of 'sweet talk' but understood he was assuring his loved one that she had a bigger part in his life, other than occupying his bed. Yet Isabelle wasn't as content as she allowed him to believe. In the past she was able to schedule pick ups and deliveries, watch the Rattler's books AND run her own business.   
  
'A challenge is what you need.' Isabelle thought. Perhaps she could help Reverend Trent with the church or maybe Clare with her newspaper … or even Lavinia … Well no, maybe not Lavinia. Somehow, Isabelle could not picture herself in Lavinia's company - especially now - for any more time than it was necessary to say, "How are you?" She and David were parted but Lavinia had never really forgiven Isabelle's flirting, in those early days, when she knew Grief belonged to another. It would seem a slap in the face to the lovely tavern owner if Isabelle were to ask a favor now.   
  
The idea of starting up a new stable touched Isabelle's mind briefly but she dismissed it. Although she received a very generous stipend from Lord Wilke, for her services as a governess and riding instructor, it was hardly enough to get another business going. And realistically, what bank would aid her now? Besides all that, thinking of the stable reminded Isabelle of what she had lost. Dante. She missed him terribly and prayed that whoever got her favorite gelding would be a kind master.  
  
His hand reached up to touch hers as it rested near his neck. Grief looked up at Isabelle, catching a quick glimmer of despair before she was able to bring up a cheerful mask. "Are you happy?" he asked, seriously.  
  
She smiled, squeezing his hand, then leaned down to peck David softly on the lips. "More than ever before, my love." she whispered -- and silently wished it were true.  
  
***  
  
"Where is everyone?" Isabelle ask as they dropped anchor in Matavai harbor, then released the longboat. Rowing to shore she said, "I thought at least Mauriri would be here to greet us." Isabelle felt a bit nervous. She knew there were some on Matavai who did not care for her, they had listened to too many rumors, but she never thought their dislike would reflect on the courtesy always shown Captain Grief. There was always someone about to greet him when he came to shore …  
  
As if on cue, Cannibal Jack walked slowly down the beach and waved his acknowledgement. He then helped Grief pull the boat onto the beach. "Good trip?" he asked, unaware it seemed of what had been going on for the last two weeks. He knew, of course. There wasn't much that got past Jack.  
  
"Yes." Grief answered, briefly shaking his hand. "The wind was at our back. We made good time." He then looked about and scowled slightly. "Seen Mauriri?"  
  
"He's at Lavinia's. Said to tell you two to stop by when you get a chance." Jack lifted a hand and politely helped Isabelle to step foot on the sand, "Glad you're here." he said lowly, catching Isabelle's eye. There was no true show of emotion, no sign of expression at all really. He was merely Cannibal Jack telling it as it is.  
  
Isabelle, appreciating the man's sincerity, smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Jack."  
  
He averted his gaze and quietly parted company.  
  
Grief took her hand in his as they walked to Lavinia's, sensing Isabelle's unease. How would their friends react to a woman - someone they considered a friend - who had left them, without one word, for parts unknown? Should she expect a genial greeting and appreciative slaps on the back or anger and disappointment? Grief had been here long enough to know the answer but Isabelle, it seemed, was still learning.  
  
When they walked inside, nearly all the usual suspected were gathered together. Sailors were drinking and flirting with native women, a couple of intense card games were taking place and the mood was, for mid week, relatively calm.   
  
"Where *is* Mauriri?" Isabelle wondered aloud, unable to spot the handsome Polynesian.  
  
'And Lavinia.' Grief also wondered, noting she was not near the bar.  
  
"Isabelle!" a call came from behind. Clare ran to where the couple stood and threw her arms around the slender brunette woman as if she had been gone for months instead of a couple weeks, "When I learned you had left I was so disappointed …" she nearly cried and pulled back from Isabelle, "Who, I thought, was going to give me riding lessons now?"  
  
Stunned but, nevertheless please by Clare's consideration, Isabelle smiled sadly. "I'm afraid the riding lessons are going to be postponed indefinitely. It's hard to teach riding when you have no horses." she reminded.  
  
Biting her bottom lip, the blond nodded her apology. She then directed her attention to another, "David, good to see you too." Clare reached passed Isabelle and touched his arm, "When Mauriri returned he told us of your run in with that awful O'Finney character." She glance fleetingly at his shoulder, at the wound that was hidden underneath his shirt, "Are you all right?"  
  
"Nothing Isabelle couldn't fix." Grief replied, jovially. Then, "Do you know where Mauriri is?"  
  
"Oh," Clare looked about, nonchalantly. "He's probably helping Lavinia with something in the back. Why don't you go get a table and I'll check around …"  
  
"David! Isabelle!" Mauriri suddenly appeared at the entrance of the tavern, "Come here, quickly!" His expression shown an urgency not to be ignored.  
  
"Has someone been hurt?" Grief asked but there was no reply as Mauriri turned about and sprinted away from them.  
  
The couple looked at one another, worried, and followed their friend to a distance not far from Lavinia's.   
  
They never saw Clare smile and look down at her own feet.  
  
The sun was just beginning to set and their shadows were long and eerie as they raced down a path traveled many times before. It wasn't long before Isabelle and Grief realized where Mauriri was leading them. A familiar area -- the sight of Isabelle's greatest nightmare and also her furthermost passion.  
  
"Why … why are we going to the stables? What has happened?" Isabelle called but Mauriri kept running, ignoring her.  
  
Soon they arrived and Isabelle could only stare, unable to say anything. Her mouth dropped open. The stable, one of her finest accomplishments, was in the process of being rebuilt. Old, dead wood had been hauled away and new boards replaced the burnt. "I don't understand." she said.  
  
Grief looked from the stable to Mauriri, "A cable came, I take it?" he asked.  
  
The Polynesian nodded, a roguish gleam in his eyes. He turned to Isabelle and explained, "Lord Wilke learned about what happened here, how the stable burned and you were not able to get funding for Reed Enterprises. He decided to help you."  
  
"You told him?" Isabelle asked, appearing mortified, looking at Grief. "David, how could you? I can't possibly accept …"  
  
"This is business, Isabelle." Grief interrupted, "Wilke is *loaning* you the money and he expects to get some fine horseflesh once breeding starts. He's allowed you some cash for purchases and is relying on your expertise. He'll be looking you up very soon."  
  
"But …" Isabelle appeared unsure.  
  
"He's not a fool. Wilke *is* a good businessman. And on the human side," Grief admitted, "Lord and Lady Wilke are grateful for everything you've done for them -- for their family. Wilke has faith in you and knows you will be a success, as you were before." Grief leaned in a little closer and spoke quietly, "I believe in you too." Then, "Besides, his interest rate is far lower than what you would ever receive from a mainland bank."  
  
Isabelle's expression appeared exhausted but a glimmer began to ignite her green eyes as the possibilities swirled through her mind, "It's going to take so much time." Her fear did battle with ambition, "I don't even have horses yet to call my own yet and ..."  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Mauriri mimed the couple to step further into the yard. The scent of straw and freshly pulled hay was magnificent.  
  
Both Grief and Isabelle were stopped short when they saw both Lavinia and Reverend Trent, dressed in working clothes, stepping from behind a tall partition. They had been talking and laughing and didn't even realize the others were present until Mauriri cleared his throat.  
  
"Ah, they're back." Colin stated with a smile.  
  
Lavinia merely nodded at David then Isabelle.  
  
"They knew about this too?" Isabelle questioned, unsure.  
  
"Not until I told them." Mauriri said, "But they did know about *this* …" He touched Isabelle's shoulder and turned her slowly so she could look into a stall to her left.  
  
"Oh." Isabelle gulped, unable to believe what she was seeing. "It can't be." she whispered. But it was … "*Dante!*" Isabelle whooped and raced into the stall in an upsurge of unguarded emotion. "My darling beauty!" She hugged the horse's neck and petted him as if he were a long lost child.  
  
The horse neighed his approval and if it were possible he would have hugged her in return.  
  
"How did you do that?" Grief asked, genuinely impressed. He too had never thought to see Dante again.  
  
Lavinia came up beside the men, "Mauriri and I talked it over." she said, a satisfied lilt to her tone. "We put some currency together, including money from the church's petty cash box, " she nodded at a beaming Colin (who rationalized by declaring he was helping a potential parishioner), "and a contribution from Clare … and had just enough to put an impressive bid in on Dante before his ship sailed."  
  
"You bought Dante?" Grief asked, still astonished. He then recalled Mauriri mentioning something about a 'business matter' before he and Grief left for Australia. Was Dante on the ship when Mauriri sailed back to Matavai?  
  
"We knew you would get Isabelle to come back," Colin said, "And we also knew how much she loved Dante. Isabelle doesn't feel she is one of us. She may never feel that comfortable … but this is our way of showing her she has family."  
  
Prying herself away from Dante, Isabelle approached and heard what Colin said. "Thank you." she swallowed hard and held him in a tight hug. She then turned to Mauriri, who was smiling down at her like a mischievous big brother, and embraced him as well. In an after thought she smacked an irritated palm against one of his muscular arms, "You sneak!' she said with a weepy laugh.  
  
Isabelle then turned about and looked at Lavinia, meeting the darker woman's eyes with her own. Gently but with sincere appreciation, she slipped her arms around Lavinia and quietly sobbed. Isabelle murmured, "Thank you most of all."  
  
In reply, holding back tears of her own, Lavinia whispered into Isabelle's ear: "You take good care of him."  
  
Isabelle knew she was not speaking of just Dante.  
  
***  
  
**EPILOGUE:**  
  
*Three Weeks Later*  
  
  
A fierce storm struck without warning and Isabelle had just enough time, with the help of a few of her stable boys, to lock up the stalls, stow the oats and hay; clear everything else out of the way before the first torrent of rain fell. Soaked, she then sent her workers home to their families.  
  
David Grief had been there too, the sea being too choppy to sail and, when all was safe, he raced with Isabelle up to her quarters where the two lovers relaxed and enjoyed an intimate hot bath together, splashing and toying with each other's feet like youngster. Afterwards, they dried and wrapped thick blankets around themselves, sitting in front of a roaring blaze in her fireplace. They held one another and drank lovely glasses of wine as they talked.  
  
"Got a letter from the children yesterday." Isabelle said, "Tim is going to be an artist. Lady Wilke has hired one of the best painters in Australia as his instructor."  
  
"And Miranda?" Grief asked.  
  
"She's paying little attention to her riding coach and is leaping barrels."  
  
Grief chuckled, "She reminds me of someone."  
  
Isabelle leaned back in his arms, resting her back against his chest. After a pause she asked, "Is the Tonga trip set for next week?"  
  
"Yeah, I think you have us down for a couple mineral shipments." Grief replied, pressing his mouth against her damp fragrant hair. Then, "Why?"  
  
"Think I'd like to go with you. The Chief owes me a favor and I've been hearing about some above average horseflesh."  
  
"Okay." Grief put his empty wine glass beside him and hugged Isabelle close, "But that's not the type of flesh I'm interested in right now."  
  
Isabelle giggled, "Naughty boy." then she twisted slightly in his embrace, positioning herself so she had easy access to his lips. After a gentle kiss Isabelle lifted a hand and touched David's cheek tenderly. "You have done so much for me …" she said, seriously. " … and I'll never be able to express how grateful I am for what you and everyone here on Matavai …"  
  
Grief raised fingers and put them against her lips. "Are you happy, Isabelle?" he asked, no nonsense. She nodded sincerely, if a little confused, and he could see it reach her eyes. Yes, she was happy. Possibly happier than she had ever been in her life. "Then that is gratitude enough."  
  
They merely looked into each others eyes for a few silent moments.  
  
Isabelle said, "I love you, David."  
  
Grief returned the endearment and added a silent thought that had nothing and everything to do with thankfulness. 'One day,' he swore, 'we're going to take the next step together and when we do ...' The thought trailed when she leaned in close and once again kissed him, this time longer and more heartfelt than ever before. He wondered for a moment if she could read his mind.  
  
Once again the South Seas blazed with their sensual passion and commitment. Slowly, displaying a love deeper than the ocean, the couple fell backward onto the soft carpeting and perfected what was already … perfect.  
  
Outside, the waves crashed.  
  
  
THE END  
Nov.-Dec. 2002 


End file.
